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THE BEST LETTERS 



OF 

LORD CHESTERFIELD 

Letters to his Son 

AND 

Letters to his Godson 
By PHILIP DORMER STANHOPE 

EARL OF CHESTERFIELD 

!Ei(it£tJ bjtt!j an Cntrotmcttott 
By EDWARD GILPIN JOHNSON 

SEVENTH ^EDITION 




CHICAGO 

A. C. McCLURG & CO. 

1916 






Copyright 

By a. C. McCluijg and Co. 

A. D. 1890 



'^-T/^^ 



7^ 
ir- 



W. f. HALL PRINTING COMPANY, CHICAGO 



CONTENTS. 



INTRODUCTION 



Pack 
9 



Cftestetfielti'g ILztttxQ to fjis Son. 



Letter 

I. 

II. 

III. 

IV. 

V. 

VI. 

VII. 

VIII. 

IX. 

X. 

XI. 

XII. 

XIII. 

XIV. 

XV. 

XVI. 

XVII. 

XVIII. 

XIX. 

XX. 

XXL 

XXII. 

XXIII. 

XXIV. 

XXV. 

XXVI. 

XXVII. 

xxvin. 



Good Breeding Relative and General 27 

A Genteel Manner Important 30 

True Praise. — Elementary Politeness .... ^3 

Dancing. —All Things should be Done Well . . 36 

Elocution : Method of Demosthenes ;^j 

Inattention. — Knowledge of Mankind .... 38 

Never Attack a Corps Collectively 41 

On Travelling Intelligently 42 

True Pleasure Inconsistent with Vice 45 <L 

The " Absent Man." — Though tfulness .... 48* 

A Showy Binding 50 

Epistolary Models 52 

Tolerance and Truth Recommended 53 

Caution in Forming Friendships , . 55 

The Art of Pleasing 59 

On Combining Study with Pleasure 65 

A Wise Guide the Best Friend 66 

The Value of Time 68 

Time Well and Time 111 Spent .* 70 

Right Use of Learning 74 

The Graces. — Absurdity of Laughter 77 

Dissimulation found not only in Courts .... Si 

An Awkward Man at Court 83 

The Lazy Mind and the Frivolous Mind .... 85 

How History should be read 89 

General Character of Women 90 

Our Tendency to exalt the Past ... ... 94 

Against Refinements of Casuistry 96 



VI 



CONTENTS. 



Letter Page 

XXIX. True Good Company Defined 98 

XXX. Conduct in Good Company 102 

XXXI. Rules for Conduct in Good Company .... 109 

XXXII. Importance of the Graces, etc 115 

XXXIII. The Importance of Dress 120 

XXXIV. On Prejudices. — Liberty of the Press .... 123 
XXXV. Dignity of Manners Recommended 129 

XXXVI. Court Manners and Methods 131 

XXXVII. On Awkwardness and Absence of Mind .... 133 

XXXVIII. Vulgarisms. — An Awkward Man, etc 139 

XXXIX. Three Sorts of Good Breeding 143 

XL. The same Subject continued 150 

XLI. Good Breeding Important in Diplomacy . . . 154 

XLII. Great Events from Trivial Causes 161 

XLIII. " The Tongue to Persuade " 166 

XLIV. Man's Inconsistency 168 

XLV. On. \)i\& Leniores Virtutes 174 

XLVI. The Writer's Novitiate 176 

XLVII. To acquire the Graces, etc 180 

XLVIII. Importance of the Moral Virtues 184 

XLIX. How to Read History, etc 187 

L. Good Manners the Source of Esteem 191 

LI. Suaviter in Modo, Fortiter in re. . , , . . 193 

LII. Les Bienseatices 199 

LIII. The Graces 204 

LIV. English and French Plays Compared .... 208 

LV. Utility of aiming at Perfection 211 

LVI. The Study of the World 215 

LVII. How History should be Written 219 

LVIII. Avoir du Monde 'E.yi^XiXntA 221 

LIX. On Military Men. — Small Change 224 

LX. Adaptation of Manners, etc 226 

LXI. Voltaire, Homer, Virgil, Milton, and Tasso . . 230 

LXII. A Worthy, Tiresome Man 234 



Cfie0tetfieIti*0 ILetters to \\<& (J^otigon. 



I. Diversion Ordered, Study Requested, etc. ... 243 

II. Duty to God, and Duty to Man 244 

III. Rough Manners 246 

IV. The Well Bred Gentleman 247 



CONTENTS. 



Vll 



Letter Page 

V. Some Rules for Behavior 248 

VI. The Art of Pleasing 250 

VII. Flat Contradiction a Proof of 111 Breeding . . . 251 

VIII. Do unto Others as You Would they Should do unto 

You 253 

IX. On Self -Command 255 

X. True Wit and its Judicious Use 258 

XI. Raillery, Mimicry, Wags, and Witlings .... 261 

XII. The Coxcomb. — The Timid Man 263 

XIII. The Man of Spirit 266 

XIV. Vanity. — Feigned Self-Condemnation .... 268 
XV. Attention. — The Sense of Propriety 270 

XVI. Affectations. — Polite Conversation 274 

XVII. Epitaph on a Wife 277 

XVIII. Every Man the Architect of his own Fortune . . 278 

XIX. Inattention. — Hoc Age 279 

XX. The Pride of Rank and Birth 281 

XXI. Shining Thoughts of Authors 283 

XXII. Avarice and Ambition 284 

XXIII. The Endeavor to Attain Perfection 286 

XXIV. The Treatment of Inferiors 287 

XXV. The False Pride of Rank 289 

XXVI. The Veracity of a Gentleman 291 

XXVII. On the Je ne Sais Quoi 293 

XXVIII. The Indecent Ostentation of Vices 295 

XXIX. The Art of Letter-Writing 296 

XXX. Treatment of Servants 298 

XXXI. Pride of Rank and Birth 299 

XXXII. The Snares of Youth 301 



In applying himself to the formation of his son as 21. polite 
man in society, Lord Chesterfield has not given us a treatise 
on duty as Cicero has ; but he has left letters which, by their 
mixture of justness and lightness, by certain lightsome airs 
which insensibly mingle with the serious graces, preserve the 
medium between the Mimoires du Chevalier de Grammont 
and TiUmaque. 

Sainte-Beuve. 



Viewed as compositions, they appear almost unrivalled for a 
serious epistolary style. 



Lord Mahon. 



INTRODUCTION. 



In summarizing the character of Philip Dormer 
Stanhope, Earl of Chesterfield, Lecky the historian 
describes him as a man of " deUcate but fastidious 
taste," "low moral principle," and " hard, keen, and 
worldly wisdom ; " and this estimate, with an undue 
stress upon "low moral principle," fairly expresses 
the conventional idea of the brilliant eighteenth cen- 
tury statesman and wit. It may be said of Lord 
Chesterfield — and it is a rather uncommon thing to 
say of one of his countrymen — that his reputation 
has suffered more from his preaching than from his 
practice. Weighed fairly in the balance with his 
contemporaries and co-equals, he loses in great 
measure the invidious distinction usually bestowed 
upon him ; and those conversant with his philosophy 
will readily conjecture that had he intended his 
preaching for the rnorally-sensitive ear of the British 
public, he would have more carefully observed his 
own organic maxim, — " Le Grand Art, et le plus 
necessaire de tous, c'est L 'Art de Plaire'^ 

Lord Chesterfield's letters to his son were written 
in the closest confidence, with no thought to their 



10 INTRODUCTION. 

future publication. After the death of both writer 
and recipient, they were pubUshed by Mrs. Eugenia 
Stanhope, the son's widow, as a speculative venture, 
— a profitable one, as it proved, the public being as 
ready to purchase as to condemn ; and the annals 
of literature record few more curious turns of fortune 
than that which has ranked this arch-diplomat and 
consummate master of the art of self-repression in 
the category of men who have frankly confessed 
themselves to the world. Parental affection im- 
pelled him to discover to his son the springs of ac- 
tion that had governed his conduct and promoted 
his success in life ; and the chance that led to his 
enduring literary fame has also installed him (with 
some injustice) as high priest and exemplar of fash- 
ionable vice and insincerity. To the same chance 
we owe our possession of a volume remarkable alike 
for its diction, wit, variety of argument and illustra- 
tion, and keen insight into the worldly motives of 
worldly people. There are serious defects in Lord 
Chesterfield's theory of life and savoir vivre ; but 
these eliminated, his system has an important advan- 
tage over many loftier ones in that it is the fruit of 
experience, and humanly practicable. Despite the 
overstrained censure of prejudice and cant, the letters 
have maintained their high rank in literature; and 
we may justly assume that their imperfections are 
greatly outweighed by their merits. It will be re- 
membered that Dr. Johnson — in a lucid interval of 
fair-mindedness — once said of them, "Take out 



INTR on UC TION. 1 1 

the immorality, and they should be put in the hands 
of every young gentleman ; " and it is in accordance 
with this view of the " Great Cham of Literature " 
that the selections for the present volume have been 
made. The better to illustrate the writer's admirable 
epistolary style, the letters chosen are given for the 
most part entire ; although at the risk of a leaning 
toward purism, we have ventured here and there to ex- 
punge expressions offensive to the delicacy of mod- 
ern taste. In addition to the letters to his son, a few 
of the but lately pubhshed letters to his godson — 
written with a like purpose and from a like stand- 
point — are given. A hasty glance at the period 
in which the letters were written may serve in a 
measure to justify and explain their general trend 
and temper. 

Freed from the pleasant glamor of its literary 
associations, English society in Lord Chesterfield's 
time — which we may consider as embracing the 
reign of Anne and those of the first two Georges — 
presents a repellent aspect. To the lover of the 
Augustan Age it is hard to realize that when Steele 
and Addison were chatting so charmingly in the 
"Tatler" and ^'Spectator," when Goldsmith was 
writing " like an angel " and the amiable Sir Joshua 
was behaving like one, when Pope, Swift, Fielding, 
Richardson, and their compeers, were on the stage, 
England was a sink of corruption in high places, of 
brutality in low. The political condition of the 
country for the first half- century after the revolution 



12 INTRODUCTION. 

of 1688 was singularly provocative of venality among 
public men. A disputed succession, a Pretender to 
the throne whose title was supported by a corrupt 
party at home and by a profusely liberal monarch 
abroad, an opposing faction eager to outbid their 
opponents, gave rise to a complication of intrigue, 
a hardihood of political double and triple dealing, 
that caused Montesquieu to say in 1729 : " English- 
men are no longer worthy of their liberty. They 
sell it to the King; and if the King should sell 
it back to them, they would sell it to him again." 
History has recorded, and satire and invective have 
rendered more odious, the faults of the leaders of 
the day. Marlborough, whose consummate genius 
broke the French prestige with an army composed 
of half-hearted allies and a Bardolphian home-con- 
tingent recruited largely by the parish constables, is 
stigmatized as " one of the basest rogues in history, 
supported by his mistresses, a niggard user of the pay 
he received from them, systematically plundering his 
soldiers, trafficking on political secrets, a traitor to 
James II., to Wilham, to England." Vieing in base- 
ness with the conqueror of Blenheim are Boling- 
broke, the cold-blooded cynic who served and sold 
in turn both Queen and Pretender; the Duke of 
Newcastle, member of the cabinet and premier, a 
" living, moving, talking caricature " " whose name 
was perfidy ; " the Earl of Mar, the Scotch Secretary 
of State whose exceptional rapidity of political 
change won for him the sobriquet of "Bobbing 



INTRODUCTION. 1 3 

John j " the profligate Wharton ; Lord Hervey, the 
" Sporus " of Pope's malignant lines : — 

" Whether in florid impotence he speaks, 
Or as the prompter breathes the puppet squeaks ; 
Or, at the ear of Eve, familiar toad, 
Half froth, half venom, spits himself abroad, 
In puns or politics, or tales or lies." 

The shameful list swells at once beyond the 
possibility of individual mention by the addition of 
Walpole's packed House of Commons, where *' every 
man had his price," and in which, Montesquieu 
said, " There are Scotch members who have only 
two hundred pounds for their vote, and who sell it 
for this price." England would not be England had 
there not been exceptions to the general rule of 
double-dealing and venality; and one of these ex- 
ceptions it is important for us to note here. It is 
honorably recorded of Lord Chesterfield that he 
"hated a job." Of this rather untimely trait his 
Lordship gave signal proof during his viceroyalty in 
Ireland; and his biographer. Dr. Maty, relates a 
pleasing instance of it that occurred early in his 
public life. Having succeeded Lord Townshend as 
Captain of the Yeomen of the Guards in 1723, Lord 
Chesterfield was advised by his predecessor to make 
the post more profitable than he himself had done 
by disposing of the places. " I rather for this 
time," was the reply, " wish to follow your lord- 
ship's example than your advice." 

Of the private manners of the period, the pre- 



1 4 IN TROD UCTIOJSr. 

cise pencil of Hogarth and the prolific pens of a 
throng of satirists in prose and verse have left us 
the amplest memorials. If venality was the charac- 
teristic of the leaders, brutality seems to have been 
that of the populace ; and in the turbulent and 
fickle mob the factious partisan found an instrument 
of mischief ready to his hand. When the puppet 
Sacheverell sounded the " drum ecclesiastic " from 
the pulpit of St. Paul's, the London rabble, chim- 
ney-sweepers, watermen, costermongers, thieves, flew 
to the rescue of the Established Church. Inflamed 
with gin and religious zeal, they swept through the 
precincts where seven years before — 

*' Earless on high stood unabashed Defoe," 

mobbed Defoe's fellow sectaries, and burned their 
meeting-houses, — at the beck of a faction who 
meant to enslave them. Vice wore in England so 
odious an aspect that one scarcely wonders when 
Lord Chesterfield bids his son shun the bestiahties 
of his countrymen and adopt rather the genteel 
"gallantries " of the continent. Turn to Hogarth's 
" Gin Lane ; " England's besetting sin is set forth 
there with all its shocking details. Gin was intro- 
duced in 1684; and half a century later, according 
to Lord Lonsdale's report, " England consumed 
seven miUions of gallons." So cheap was the bev- 
erage that one could get comfortably tipsy for a 
penny, and dead drunk — "o'er all the ills of life 
victorious" — for twopence. But the ugliness, the 



INTRO D UCTION, 1 5 

unvarnished brutality of vice was not confined to 
the pleasures of the rabble. The amusements of 
the costermonger, so far as his money went, were the 
amusements of the lord. In the public resorts filth 
jostled finery; the blind nobleman in Hogarth's 
" Cockpit " bets his money freely with the ruffians 
about him, while the deft thief at his elbow slips a 
bank-note from his lordship's stake ; at the bear- 
garden — as the "Spectator" tells us — peer and 
blackguard alike applauded when "Timothy Buck 
of Clare Market " so slashed with his broadsword 
his opponent "Sergeant Miller, late come from 
Portugal," that the latter fell disabled, and "his 
wound was exposed to the view of all who could 
delight in it, and sewed up on the stage." In the 
genteel revels of Hogarth's " Midnight Conversa- 
tion " one sees the debauchery of "Gin Lane" 
minus the insignia of poverty; the company is bet- 
ter, the liquor is better, and the rags and tatters are 
replaced by bands and cassocks, lace and ruffles, 
cocked hats and full-bottomed wigs ; but the essen- 
tials are the same, and the gentlemen — from the 
divine who presides at the punch-bowl to the officer 
who sprawls on the floor — exhibit every stage of the 
national vice. England in the eighteenth century 
was not, as Lord Chesterfield said, " the home of 
The Graces." 

That polite society at this period was lax in its 
morals, that " a mistress was as well recognized as a 
concubine in the days of King David," is scarcely 



1 6 INTRODUCTION, 

to be wondered at when we consider the precedent 
of royalty. The domestic annals of the royal con- 
temners of "boetry and bainting/' George Land 
George II., read very much like those of Macheath 
and his gang. There was no concealment in these 
delicate matters at that time; the facts were as 
plain as noonday, and it was thought no scandal 
that an officer should owe his rank, or a prelate his 
lawn, to the good offices of the Duchess of Kendal 
or of Madam Walmoden. Certainly there is little 
to be said in extenuation of the immorality of a 
class that can enjoy, laugh at, and applaud a bitterly 
truthful satire on its own vices. In his " Beggar's 
Opera" Gay exhibited to poHte society the reflec- 
tion of its own detestable manners mirrored in the 
annals of a band of thieves and prostitutes ; and 
polite society, instead of shtting the ears of the 
author, made much of him, and rapturously ad- 
mitted the fidelity of the portrait. 

Such, broadly speaking, were the social externals 
in England when Lord Chesterfield lived ; and it is 
by the temper of his time and country that he is to 
be judged. Few men will bear comparison with the 
standards of an age more advanced than their own. 
The defects of Chesterfield — as Lord Mahon says 
— were " neither slight nor few." He was addicted 
to gaming; he carried flattery and dissimulation 
beyond justifiable bounds ; and neither his life nor 
his precept was free from the taint of the prevail- 
ing immorality. Much of the common estimate of 



INTRO D UC TION. 1 7 

Lord Chesterfield has been founded on Dr. John- 
son's opinion, — and Dr. Johnson's opinion where 
his prejudices were engaged was usually worthless. 
The story of his quarrel with the Earl is well known, 
and the facts lie in a nutshell. On the one hand 
was Lord Chesterfield, a leader in society, Hterature, 
and poHtics, a man whose name was a synonym for 
good breeding, and in whose eyes the graces and 
amenities of life were of paramount importance j 
on the other was Dr. Johnson, a phenomenon of 
learning and intellectual force, but also, unhappily, 
a phenomenon of slovenliness, ill breeding, and 
personal repulsiveness. Assuming human nature to 
have been, in the main, what it is to-day, we can 
scarcely blame Lord Chesterfield for declining the 
intimacy of one who must have been peculiarly re- 
pugnant to him. Much solemn nonsense in the way 
of moral dissertation has grown out of the story that 
he once kept Johnson waiting in an antechamber 
— Lord Lyttleton places the time at ten minutes — 
while he chatted with so frivolous a person as Colley 
Cibber. There is little doubt that the Earl found 
Cibber's lively prattle more entertaining than the 
ponderous ^*Sirs ! " of the Doctor; and we may be- 
lieve that so fastidious a nobleman objected to being 
knocked down with the butt of Johnson's conversa- 
tional pistol, — which was Goldsmith's figurative way 
of saying that when the Doctor was fairly worsted 
in an argument he silenced his opponent with a 
roar of abuse or a staggering sophistry. Is it not 
2 



1 8 INTRODUCTION. 

curious that posterity has been so unwilling to con- 
done Lord Chesterfield's shadowy discourtesy to- 
ward one whose habitual bearishness toward all was 
proverbial ? 

It is not my intention here to go into the details 
of Lord Chesterfield's career. It may be well, how- 
ever, to recapitulate the leading facts before turning 
to a brief consideration of his letters. He was bom 
in London on Sept. 22, 1694, and in 1712 he 
entered Trinity Hall, Cambridge. After two years 
of close application at Cambridge, he visited the 
Hague, where he served his novitiate in polite 
society, frequenting the best companies and adding 
to his solid attainments those lighter arts in which 
he afterwards excelled, and by means of which he 
declared that he sought to make " every woman 
love and every man admire" him. In 1715, upon 
the accession of George I., he became Gentleman 
of the Bed Chamber to the Prince of Wales, and 
shortly after entered the House of Commons. In 
1726 he was called to the House of Peers by the 
death of his father. Oratory had been his chief 
study, and here he found himself in a theatre suited 
to the refined and studied eloquence in which he 
easily surpassed his compeers. The grace of man- 
ner, refined wit, and facility in classical allusion, 
which failed to touch the more popular assembly, 
were here relished and applauded. Horace Wal- 
pole, who had heard the first orators of his day, de- 
clared that the finest speech he had ever listened to 



INTRODUCTION. 1 9 

was one from Chesterfield. In 1727 he was sent as 
ambassador to Holland j and it was during his stay 
aTthe Hague that he met the lady, Madam de Bou- 
chet, who became, in 1732, the mother of his son, 
to whom the most of the letters in this volume 
are addressed. In 1733 he married Melusina de 
Schulemberg, niece of the Duchess of Kendal, — or 
as some said, her daughter by George I. In 1 744 
he was again sent as envoy to the Hague, and in 
the following year he entered on his memorable 
Lord Lieutenancy in Ireland. Although Lord Ches- 
terfield's public engagements were uniformly fulfilled 
with credit to himself and with satisfaction to his 
countrymen, his term in Ireland was undoubtedly 
the most brilliant and useful part of his career. It 
is not too much to say that at no time in the history 
of that hapless country has English rule been so 
well administered. To please or even to content 
the Irish people is for the English representative a 
task that dwarfs the labors of Hercules ; yet we 
learn that at the close of Lord Chesterfield's admin- 
istration " persons of all ranks and religions followed 
him to the water's edge, praising and blessing him, 
and entreating him to return." It will be remem- 
bered that when Lord Chesterfield went to Dublin 
in 1 745 he was confronted with unusual difficulties. 
Politically, the period was one of transition ; time 
had not yet ratified the title of a dynasty toward 
which the Irish were generally disaffected, and the 
adherents of a claimant whom they generally favored 



20 INTRODUCTION. 

were up in arms in the neighboring island. Though 
eminently satisfactory to both factions, Lord Ches- 
terfield's poUcy in Ireland was one of most unwaver- 
ing firmness, and was not without severity when 
called for. It is related that he said to a supposed 
agent of the Pretender : " Sir, I do not wish to in- 
quire whether you have any particular employment 
in this kingdom, but I know you have great influ- 
ence among those of your persuasion. I have sent 
for you to exhort them to be peaceable and quiet. 
If they behave like faithful subjects they shall be 
treated as such, but if they act in a different man- 
ner, I will be worse to them than Cromwell." In 
1 746 Lord Chesterfield became Secretary of State, 
resigning in 1 74S. He had long been troubled 
with deafness, and in 1755, his infirmity becoming 
so serious as to incapacitate him from taking part in 
public affairs, he determined to go into retirement. 
His death occurred on March 24, 1773, five years 
after that of the son upon whom he had bestowed 
such a wealth of care and affection. 

Lord Chesterfield's letters to his son have been 
strongly reprehended on three distinct grounds : 
first, because their teachings are sometimes immoral ; 
secondly, because of the seemingly undue stress 
placed upon good breeding and the graces; and 
thirdly, because the maxims, even when good in 
themselves, seldom rest on higher grounds than 
expediency or personal advantage. 

Lord Chesterfield's most determined panegyrist 



INTRODUCTION, 21 

will scarcely deny that some of his precepts are, in 
themselves, inexcusably bad. But where is the source, 
the well-spring, of these precepts ? Not, I think, in 
the heart of the writer. " Let us first " — as John- 
son once said to Boswell — "clear our minds of 
cant," and then consider that it was not his son's 
prospects in the next world but his welfare in this 
that the anxious father deemed himself qualified to 
advance ; and of his intimate and curious knowledge 
of the ways of this world there is no doubt. Lord 
Chesterfield would scarcely have presented the 
" Letters " to the world as embodying a system of 
absolute ethics. Long years of acute watching and 
deliberate weighing of the preferences and foibles of 
his fellows convinced him that to appear well in 
their eyes, — or, as he expressed it, " to make 
people in general wish him well, and inclined to 
serve him in anything not inconsistent with their 
own interests," — he must act in such and such a 
way ; and in that he unshrinkingly put certain pitiful 
results of his experience of men and women into 
the form of advice to his son, lies the essence of his 
fault. We are not, however, to hold the observer 
responsible for the phenomena from which he drew 
his conclusions. 

As to the second objection to the letters, the 
answer must be obvious to all who consider for a 
moment their nature and the purpose with which 
they were composed. They were written, not for 
the public, but for the instruction of an individual ; 



22 INTRODUCTION. 

and naturally stress is laid upon those qualities and 
acquirements in which that individual was deficient. 
Mr. Stanhope was naturally studious, hence we find 
comparatively little insistence upon the more solid 
attainments ; Mr. Stanhope was inclined to be moral, 
hence his father did not insult him by constantly 
referring to the Decalogue ; but Mr. Stanhope was 
naturally somewhat distrait and awkward, hence 
Lord Chesterfield wrote, " For God's sake, there- 
fore, think of nothing but shining and even dis- 
tinguishing yourself in the most polite courts by 
your air, your address, your manners, your politeness, 
your douceur^ your graces." 

There are very few of us, I think, who will venture 
to quarrel with Lord Chesterfield on the grounds 
stated in the third objection, if we steadily bear in 
mind Dr. Johnson's excellent advice on the subject 
of cant. 

Before closing this hasty sketch a word should be 
added regarding the series of letters which form the 
concluding portion of the present volume, and of 
the person to whom they were addressed. With a 
few exceptions, it is only within the current year 
that Lord Chesterfield's letters to his godson have 
been given to the public ; and we have gladly availed 
ourselves of the opportunity of adding to our col- 
lection an element of such freshness and interest. 
The literary value of these later letters will be taken 
for granted. The qualities that secured for Lord 
Chesterfield's letters to his son their high rank in 



INTRODUCTION. 23 

epistolary literature are not of course wanting in 
those to his godson, written with a like general pur- 
pose. There is however a perceptible difference 
between the two sets, owing in part to the advanced 
years of the writer, in part to the extreme youth 
ot the recipient. To many readers the flagging 
of the old intellectual fire and acuteness noticeable 
in the letters to the godson will be compensated by 
their kindlier, more liberal, and less worldly tone. 
In both series will be found the same frequent in- 
sistence upon the importance of manners and the 
graces, and this is largely due to the fact that son 
and godson were strikingly alike in general character 
and disposition ; both were studiously inclined and 
of good habits, and both were shy of those divini- 
ties to whose altar their Mentor so constantly urged 
them. Philip Stanhope, the godson, was the son of 
Arthur Charles Stanhope of Mansfield, a somewhat 
distant relative of Lord Chesterfield, and was adopted 
by him, upon his son's death, as heir to his rank, 
fortune, and affections. Like the son, the godson 
failed to fulfil the brilliant hopes formed of him; 
and instead of the shining diplomat, statesman, 
and courtier, he seems to have turned out the hum- 
drum, quite commonplace country gentleman, — a 
respectable man but by no means a votary of the 
Graces. Madame d'Arblay wrote of him : " How 
would that quintessence of high ton, the late Lord 
Chesterfield, blush to behold his successor, who 
with much share of humor and of good humor also, 



24 INTRODUCTION, 

has as little good breeding as any man I ever met 
with." 

As before intimated, it is the aim of the projectors 
of this volume to show Lord Chesterfield at his best ; 
to select from the mass of his letters those that are 
in themselves the most valuable, — a process which 
has obliged us occasionally to reject letters and ex- 
punge passages which the writer's detractors would 
perhaps deem specially characteristic of him. We 
have, however, we believe, prepared a volume that 
will prove not only useful and readable, but morally 
unobjectionable ; and if our general aim has been 
attained, there are few readers who will not feel re- 
paid for the perusal of the following pages. 

E. G. \ 



LETTERS OF LORD CHESTERFIELD 
TO HIS SON. 



LETTERS OF LORD CHESTERFIELD 
TO HIS SON. 



I. 



GOOD BREEDING RELATIVE AND GENERAL.— 
MAUVAISE HONTE. 

Wednesday}- 

Dear Boy, — You behaved yourself so well at Mr. 
Boden's last Sunday that you justly deserve com- 
mendation ; besides, you encourage me to give you 
some rules of politeness and good breeding, being 
persuaded that you will observe them. Know then 
that as learning, honor, and virtue are absolutely 
necessary to gain you the esteem and admiration of 
mankind, politeness and good breeding are equally 
necessary to make you welcome and agreeable in 
conversation and common life. Great talents, such 
as honor, virtue, learning, and parts, are above the 
generality of the world, who neither possess them 
themselves nor judge of them rightly in others ; but 

1 At the time this was written, Master Stanhope was 
in his ninth year. The letter following was written a few 
months later. 



28 LETTERS OF LORD CHESTERFIELD 

all people are judges of the lesser talents, such as 
civility, affability, and an obliging, agreeable address 
and manner, because they feel the good effects of 
them as making society easy and pleasing. Good 
sense must in many cases determine good breeding ; 
because the same thing that would be civil at one 
time, and to one person, may be quite otherwise at 
another time, and to another person ; but there are 
some general rules of good breeding that hold al- 
ways true, and in all cases. As, for example, it is 
always extremely rude to answer only Yes, or No, 
to anybody, without adding Sir, My Lord, or Madam, 
according to the quality of the person you speak 
to, — as in French you must always say, Monsieur, 
Milord, Madame, and Mademoiselle. I suppose you 
know that every married woman is in French Ma- 
dame, and every unmarried one is Mademoiselle. 
It is likewise extremely rude not to give the proper 
attention and a civil answer when people speak to 
you, or to go away, or be doing something else, 
when they are speaking to you ; for that convinces 
them that you despise them, and do not think it 
worth your while to hear or answer what they say. 
I dare say I need not tell you how rude it is to 
take the best place in a room, or to seize immediately 
upon what you like at table, without offering first to 
help others, — as if you considered nobody but your- 
self. On the contrary, you should always endeavor 
to procure all the conveniences you can to the peo- 
ple you are with. Besides being civil, which is abso- 
lutely necessary, the perfection of good breeding is 
to be civil with ease, and in a gentle man- like manner. 



TO HIS SON, 29 

For this, you should observe the French people, who 
excel in it, and whose politeness seems as easy and 
natural as any other part of their conversation ; 
whereas the English are often awkward in their 
civilities, and when they mean to be civil, are too 
much ashamed to get it out. But, pray, do you re- 
member never to be ashamed of doing what is right ; 
you would have a great deal of reason to be ashamed 
if you were not civil, but what reason can you have 
to be ashamed of being ci\dl? And why not say a 
civil and obliging thing as easily and as naturally as 
you would ask what o'clock it is? This kind of 
bashfulness, which is justly called by the French 
mauvaise honte, is the distinguishing character of an 
EngUsh booby, who is frightened out of his wits 
when people of fashion speak to him; and when 
he is to answer them, blushes, stammers, and can 
hardly get out what he would say, and becomes 
really ridiculous from a groundless fear of being 
laughed at; whereas a real well-bred man would 
speak to all the kings in the world with as little 
concern and as much ease as he would speak to you. 
Remember, then, that to be civil, and to be civil 
with ease (which is properly called good breeding), 
is the only way to be beloved and well received in 
company ; that to be ill bred and rude is intoler- 
able, and the way to be kicked out of company; 
and that to be bashful is to be ridiculous. As I 
am sure you will mind and practise all this, I expect 
that when you are novennis, you will not only be 
the best scholar but the best- bred boy in England 
of your age. Adieu. 



30 LETTERS OF LORD CHESTERFIELD 



II. 



A GENTEEL MANNER IMPORTANT. — AN AWKWARD 
FELLOW. — ATTENTION. 

Spa, July 25, n. s. 1741. 
Dear Boy, — I have often told you in my former 
letters — and it is most certainly true — that the 
strictest and most scrupulous honor and virtue can 
alone make you esteemed and valued by mankind ; 
that parts and learning can alone make you admired 
and celebrated by them ; but that the possession of 
lesser talents was most absolutely necessary towards 
making you liked, beloved, and sought after in 
private life. Of these lesser talents, good breeding 
is the principal and most necessary one, not only as 
it is very important in itself, but as it adds great 
lustre to the more solid advantages both of the heart 
and the mind. I have often touched upon good 
breeding to you before, so that this letter shall be 
upon the next necessary qualification to it, which is 
a genteel and easy manner and carriage, wholly free 
from those odd tricks, ill habits, and awkwardnesses, 
which even many very worthy and sensible people 
have in their behavior. However trifling a genteel 
manner may sound, it is of very great consequence 
towards pleasing in private life, especially the women, 
which one time or other you will think worth pleas- 
ing ; and I have known many a man from his awk- 
wardness give people such a dislike of him at first 
that all his merit could not get the better of it after- 
wards. Whereas a genteel manner prepossesses 



TO HIS son: 31 

people in your favor, bends them towards you, and 
makes them wish to be Uke you. Awkwardness can 
proceed but from two causes, — either from not hav- 
ing kept good company, or from not having attended 
to it. As for your keeping good company, I will take 
care of that ; do you take care to observe their ways 
and manners, and to form your own upon them. 
Attention is absolutely necessary for this, as indeed 
it is for everything else ; and a man without atten- 
tion is not fit to live in the world. When an awk- 
ward fellow first comes into a room, it is highly pro- 
bable that his sword gets between his legs and 
throws him down, or makes him stumble at least ; 
when he has recovered this accident, he goes and 
places himself in the very place of the whole room 
where he should not ; there he soon lets his hat fall 
down, and in taking it up again throws down his 
cane ; in recovering his cane, his hat falls a second 
time, so that he is a quarter of an hour before he is 
in order again. If he drinks tea or coffee, he cer- 
tainfy scalds his mouth, and lets either the cup or 
the saucer fall, and spills either the tea or coffee in 
his breeches. At dinner, his awkwardness distin- 
guishes itself particularly, as he has more to do ; 
there he holds his knife, fork, and spoon differently 
from other people, eats with his knife, to the great 
danger of his mouth, picks his teeth with his fork, 
and puts his spoon into the dishes again. If he is 
to carve he can never hit the joint, but in his vain 
efforts to cut through the bone scatters the sauce in 
everybody's face. He generally daubs himself with 
soup and grease, though his napkin is commonly 



32 LETTERS OF LORD CHESTERFIELD 

stuck through a button-hole and tickles his chin. 
When he drinks, he infallibly coughs in his glass 
and besprinkles the company. . . . His hands are 
troublesome to him when he has not something in 
them, and he does not know where to put them ; 
but they are in perpetual motion between his bosom 
and his breeches ; he does not wear his clothes, and 
in short does nothing, like other people. All this, I 
own, is not in any degree criminal ; but it is highly 
disagreeable and ridiculous in company, and ought 
most carefully to be avoided by whoever desires to 
please. 

From this account of what you should not do, you 
may easily judge what you should do ; and a due 
attention to the manners of people of fashion, and 
who have seen the world, will make it habitual and 
familiar to you. 

There is, likewise, an awkwardness of expression 
and words most carefully to be avoided, — such as 
false English, bad pronunciation, old sayings, and 
common proverbs, which are so many proofs of 
having kept bad and low company. For example : 
if, instead of saying that tastes are different and 
that every man has his own peculiar one, you should 
let off a proverb, and say. That what is one man's 
meat is another man's poison ; or else. Every one 
as they like, as the good man said when he kissed 
his cow, — everybody would be persuaded that you 
had never kept company with anybody above foot- 
men and housemaids. 

Attention will do all this ; and without attention 
nothing is to be done : want of attention, which is 



TO HIS SON. 33 

really want of thought, is either folly or madness. 
You should not only have attention to everything 
but a quickness of attention, so as to observe at 
once all the people in the room, their motions, 
their looks, and their words, and yet without staring 
at them and seeming to be an observer. This 
quick and unobserved observation is of infinite 
advantage in life, and is to be acquired with care ; 
and on the contrary what is called absence, which 
is thoughtlessness and want of attention about what 
is doing, makes a man so like either a fool or a 
madman, that for my part I see no real difference. 
A fool never has thought ; a madman has lost it ; 
and an absent man is, for the time, without it. - 



III. 

TRUE PRAISE. — ELEMENTARY POLITENESS. 

Spa, Aug. 6, 1741. 
Dear Boy, — I am very well pleased with the 
several performances you sent me, and still more 
so with Mr. Maittaire's letter that accompanied 
them, in which he gives me a much better ac- 
count of you than he did in his former. Lau- 
dari a laudato viro was always a commendable 
ambition; encourage that ambition, and continue 
to deserve the praises of the praiseworthy. While 
you do so, you shall have whatever you will from 
me ; and when you cease to do so, you shall have 
nothing. 



34 LETTERS OF LORD CHESTERFIELD 

I am glad you have begun to compose a little ; 
it will give you a habit of thinking upon subjects, 
which is at least as necessary as reading them ; 
therefore pray send me your thoughts upon this 
subject, — 

" Non sibi, sed toti genitum se credere mundo/' 

It is a part of Cato's character in Lucan, who 
says that Cato did not think himself bom for him- 
self only, but for all mankind. Let me know, 
then, whether you think that a man is bom only 
for his own pleasure and advantage, or whether 
he is not obliged to contribute to the good of 
the society in which he lives and of all mankind in 
general. This is certain, — that every man re- 
ceives advantages from society which he could 
not have if he were the only man in the world : 
therefore is he not in some measure in debt to 
society; and is he not obliged to do for others 
what they do for him ? You may do this in Eng- 
lish or Latin, which you please ; for it is the think- 
ing part, and not the language, that I mind in this 
case. 

I wamed you in my last against those disagree- 
able tricks and awkwardnesses which many people 
contract when they are young by the negligence 
of their parents, and cannot get quit of them when 
they are old, — such as odd motions, strange pos- 
tures, and ungenteel carriage. But there is like- 
wise an awkwardness of the mind that ought to 
be and with care may be avoided ; as, for instance, 
to mistake names. To speak of Mr. What-d'ye-call- 



TO HIS SON, 35 

him or Mrs. Thingum or How-d'ye-call-her is ex- 
cessively awkward and ordinary. To call people 
by improper titles and appellations is so too; as 
my Lord for Sir, and Sir for my Lord. To be- 
gin a story or narration when you are not perfect 
in it and cannot go through with it, but are forced 
possibly to say in the middle of it, " I have forgot 
the rest," is very unpleasant and bungling. One 
must be extremely exact, clear, and perspicuous in 
everything one says; otherwise instead of enter- 
taining or informing others, one only tires and 
puzzles them. The voice and manner of speaking, 
too, are not to be neglected. Some people almost 
shut their mouths when they speak and mutter so 
that they are not to be understood; others speak 
so fast and sputter that they are not to be under- 
stood neither ; some always speak as loud as if they 
were talking to deaf people ; and others so low 
that one cannot hear them. All these habits are 
awkward and disagreeable, and are to be avoided 
by attention; they are the distinguishing marks of 
the ordinary people who have had no care taken 
of their education. You cannot imagine how ne- 
cessary it is to mind all these little things; for I 
have seen many people with great talents ill re- 
ceived for want of having these talents too, and 
others well received only from their little talents, 
and who had no great ones. Adieu. 



36 LETTERS GF LORD CHESTERFIELD 



IV. 



DANCING.— ALL THINGS, EVEN TRIFLES, SHOULD BE 
DONE WELL. 

Dublin Castle, N(yv. 19, 1745.^ 
Dear Boy, — ... Now that the Christmas break- 
ing-up draws near, I have ordered Mr. Desnoyers to 
go to you during that time, to teach you to dance. 
I desire you will particularly attend to the grace- 
ful motion of your arms, which with the manner 
of putting on your hat and giving your hand is all 
that a gentleman need attend to. Dancing is in it- 
self a very trifling, silly thing ; but it is one of those 
established follies to which people of sense are 
sometimes obliged to conform, and then they should 
be able to do it well. And though I would not have 
you a dancer, yet when you do dance I would have 
you dance well, as I would have you do everything 
you do well. There is no one thing so trifling but 
which, if it is to be done at all, ought to be done 
well ; and I have often told you that I wished you 
even played at pitch and cricket better than any 
boy at Westminster. For instance, dress is a very 
foolish thing, and yet it is a very foolish thing for a 
man not to be well dressed, according to his rank 
and way of life ; and it is so far from being a dis- 
paragement to any man's understanding that it is 
rather a proof of it to be as well dressed as those 
whom he lives with : the difference in this case be- 
tween a man of sense and a fop is that the fop 

1 Written during Lord Chesterfield's viceroyalty in Ireland. 



TO HIS SON. 37 

values himself upon his dress, and the man of sense 
laughs at it, at the same time that he knows he 
must not neglect it. There are a thousand foolish 
customs of this kind, which, not being criminal, 
must be compHed with, and even cheerfully, hy- 
men of sense. Diogenes the c>Tiic was a wise man 
for despising them, but a fool for showing it. Be 
wiser than other people, if you can ; but do not tell 
them so. 



ELOCUTION: METHOD OF DEMOSTHENES. 

Dublin Castle, Feb. 8, 1746. 

You propose, I find, Demosthenes for your 
model, and you have chosen very well; but re- 
member the pains he took to be what he was. He 
spoke near the sea in storms, both to use himself to 
speak aloud, and not to be disturbed by the noise 
and tumult of public assemblies ; he put stones in 
his mouth to help his elocution, which naturally was 
not advantageous; from which facts I conclude, 
that whenever he spoke he opened both his lips 
and his teeth, and that he articulated every word 
and every syllable distinctly, and full loud enough 
to be heard the whole length of my library. 

As he took so much pains for the graces of ora- 
tory only, I conclude he took still more for the 
more solid parts of it. I am apt to think he applied 
himself extremely to the propriety, the purity, and 



38 LETTERS OF LORD CHESTERFIELD 

the elegance of his language ; to the distribution of 
the parts of his oration; to the force of his argu- 
ments j to the strength of his proofs ; and to the 
passions as well as the judgments of his audience. 
I fancy he began with an exordium, to gain the 
good opinion and the affections of his audience ; 
that afterwards he stated the point in question 
briefly but clearly ; that he then brought his proofs, 
afterwards his arguments; and that he concluded 
with a peroratio, in which he recapitulated the whole 
succinctly, enforced the strong parts, and artfully 
slipped over the weak ones ; and at last made his 
strong push at the passions of his hearers. Wher- 
ever you would persuade or prevail, address yourself 
to the passions ; it is by them that mankind is to 
be taken. Caesar bade his soldiers at the battle of 
Pharsalia aim at the faces of Pompey's men ; they 
did so, and prevailed. I bid you strike at the pas- 
sions ; and if you do, you too will prevail. If you 
can once engage people's pride, love, pity, ambi- 
tion, — or whichever is their prevailing passion, — 
on your side, you need not fear what their reason 
can do against you. 



VI. 

INATTENTION. - KNOWLEDGE OF MANKIND. 

Dublin Castle, March lo, 1746. 
Sir, — I most thankfully acknowledge the honor 
of two or three letters from you, since I troubled 



TO HIS SON. 39 

you with my last ; and am very proud of the re- 
peated instances you give me of your favor and 
protection, which I shall endeavor to deserve.* 

I am very glad that you went to hear a trial in 
the Court of King's Bench ; and still more so, that 
you made the proper animadversions upon the in- 
attention of many of the people in the Court. As 
you observed very well the indecency of that inat- 
tention, I am sure you will never be guilty of any- 
thing like it yourself. There is no surer sign in the 
world of a little, weak mind than inattention. 
Whatever is worth doing at all is worth doing well ; 
and nothing can be well done without attention. 
It is the sure answer of a fool, when you ask him 
about anything that was said or done where he was 
present, that " truly he did not mind it.** And why 
did not the fool mind it ? What had he else to do 
there but to mind what was doing? A man of 
sense sees, hears, and retains everything that passes 
where he is. I desire I may never hear you talk of 
not minding, nor complain, as most fools do, of a 
treacherous memory. Mind not only what people 
say but how they say it; and if you have any 
sagacity, you may discover more truth by your eyes 
than by your ears. People can say what they will, 
but they cannot look just as they will ; and their 
looks frequently discover what their words are cal- 
culated to conceal. Observe, therefore, people's 
looks carefully when they speak, not only to you, 
but to each other. I have often guessed by people's 

1 A little badinage at the expense of the boy, who at that 
date was about fourteen. 



40 LETTERS OF LORD CHESTERFIELD 

faces what they were saying, though I could not 
hear one word they said. The most material knowl^ 
edge of all — I mean the knowledge of the world — 
is never to be acquired without great attention ; and 
I know many old people, who though they have 
lived long in the world, are but children still as to 
the knowledge of it, from their levity and inatten- 
tion. Certain forms which all people comply with, 
and certain arts which all people aim at, hide in 
some degree the truth and give a general exterior 
resemblance to almost everybody. Attention and 
sagacity must see through that veil and discover 
the natural character. You are of an age now to 
reflect, to observe and compare characters, and to 
arm yourself against the common arts, — at least of 
the world. If a man with whom you are but barely 
acquainted, and to whom you have made no offers 
nor given any marks of friendship, makes you on a 
sudden strong professions of his, receive them with 
civility, but do not repay them with confidence ; he 
certainly means to deceive you, for one man does 
not fall in love with another at sight. If a man 
uses strong protestations or oaths to make you be- 
lieve a thing which is of itself so likely and prob- 
able that the bare saying of it would be sufficient, 
depend upon it he lies, and is highly interested in 
making you believe it ; or else he would not take so 
much pains. 

In about five weeks I propose having the honor 
of laying myself at your feet, — which I hope to find 
grown longer than they were when I left them. 
Adieu. 



TO HIS SON. 41 



VII. 



NEVER ATTACK A CORPS COLLECTIVELY. 

April 5, 1746. 

Dear Bov, — Before it is very long, I am of 
opinion that you will both think and speak more 
favorably of women than you do now. You seem 
to think that from Eve downwards they have 
done a great deal of mischief. As for that lady, 
I give her up to you ; but since her time, history 
will inform you that men have done much more 
mischief in the world than women; and to say 
the truth, I would not advise you to trust either 
more than is absolutely necessary. But this I 
will advise you to, which is, never to attack whole 
bodies of any kind ; for besides that all general 
rules have their exceptions, you unnecessarily make 
yourself a great number of enemies by attacking 
a co7-ps collectively. Among women, as among 
men, there are good as well as bad; and it 
may be full as many or more good than among 
men. This rule holds as to lawyers, soldiers, par- 
sons, courtiers, citizens, etc. They are all men, 
subject to the same passions and sentiments, dif- 
fering only in the manner, according to their sev- 
eral educations ; and it would be as imprudent as 
unjust to attack any of them by the lump. In- 
dividuals forgive sometimes; but bodies and so- 
cieties never do. Many young people think it 
very genteel and witty to abuse the clergy; in 



42 LETTERS OF LORD CHESTERFIELD 

which they are extremely mistaken, since in my 
opinion parsons are very like men, and neither 
the better nor the worse for wearing a black gown. 
All general reflections upon nations and societies 
are the trite, threadbare jokes of those who set 
up for wit without having any, and so have re- 
course to commonplace. Judge of individuals from 
your own knowledge of them, and not from their 
sex, profession, or denomination. 



VIII. 

ON TRAVELLING INTELLIGENTLY. — THE WELL-BRED 
TRAVELLER. 

Bath, Sept. 29, o. s. 1746,1 
Dear Boy, — I received by the last mail your 
letter of the 23d n. s. from Heidelberg, and am 
very well pleased to find that you inform your- 
self of the particulars of the several places you 
go through. You do mighty right to see the curi- 
osities in those several places, such as the Golden 
Bull at Frankfort, the Tun at Heidelberg, etc. 
Other travellers see and talk of them ; it is very 
proper to see them, too, but remember that see- 
ing is the least material object of travelling, — - 
hearing and knowing are the essential points. 
Therefore pray let your inquiries be chiefly di- 
rected to the knowledge of the constitution and 

1 At this date Mr. Stanhope was making his continental 
tour in quest of " The Graces." 



TO HIS SON. 43 

particular customs of the places where you either 
reside at or pass through, whom they belong to, 
by what right and tenure, and since when; in 
whom the supreme authority is lodged ; and by 
what magistrates, and in what manner, the civil 
and criminal justice is administered. It is like- 
wise necessary to get as much acquaintance as 
you can, in order to observe the characters and 
manners of the people ; for though human nature 
is in truth the same through the whole human 
species, yet it is so differently modified and var- 
ied by education, habit, and different customs, 
that one should, upon a slight and superficial ob- 
servation, almost think it different. 

As I have never been in Switzerland myself, I 
must desire you to inform me, now and then, of 
the constitution of that country. As, for instance, 
do the Thirteen Cantons jointly and collectively 
form one government where the supreme author- 
ity is lodged, or is each canton sovereign in it- 
self, and under no tie or constitutional obligation 
of acting in common concert with the other can- 
tons? Can any one canton make war or form an 
alliance with a foreign power without the consent 
of the other twelve or at least a majority of them? 
Can one canton declare war against another? 
If every canton is sovereign and independent in 
itself, in whom is the supreme power of that can- 
ton lodged? Is it in one man, or in a certain 
number of men? If in one man, what is he 
called ? If in a number, what are they called, — 
Senate, Council, or what? I do not suppose that 



44 LETTERS OF LORD CHESTERFIELD 

you can yet know these things yourself; but a 
very little inquiry of those who do will enable 
you to answer me these few questions in your 
next. You see, I am sure, the necessity of know- 
ing these things thoroughly, and consequently the 
necessity of conversing much with the people of 
the country, who alone can inform you rightly ; 
whereas, most of the English who travel converse 
only with each other, and consequently know no 
more when they return to England than they did 
.when they left it. This proceeds from a mauvaisi 
honte which makes them ashamed of going into 
company; and frequently, too, from the want of 
the necessary language (French) to enable them 
to bear their part in it. As for the viauvaise 
honte, I hope you are above it. Your figure is 
like other people's ; i suppose you will care that 
your dress shau be so, loo, and to avoid any sin- 
gularity. What, then, snould you be ashamed of, 
and why not go into a mixed company with as 
much ease and as Httle concern as you would go 
into your own room? Vice and ignorance are 
the only things I know which one ought to be 
ashamed of ; keep but clear of them and you 
may go anywhere without fear or concern. 1 
have known some people who, from feehng the 
pain and inconveniences of this mauvaise honte, 
have rushed into the other extreme and turned 
impudent, as cowards sometimes grow desperate 
from the excess of danger ; but this, too, is care- 
fully to be avoided, there being nothing more gen- 
erally shocking than impudence. The medium 



TO HIS SON. 45 

between these two extremes marks out the well- 
bred man ; he feels himself firm and easy in all 
companies ; is modest without being bashful, and 
steady without being impudent; if he is a stran- 
ger, he observes with care the manners and ways 
of the people most esteemed at that place, and 
conforms to them with complaisance. Instead of 
finding fault with the customs of that place and 
telling the people that the English ones are a 
thousand times better, — as my countrymen are 
very apt to do, — he commends their table, their 
dress, their houses, and their manners a little 
more, it may be, than he really thinks they de- 
serve. But this degree of complaisance is neither 
criminal nor abject, and is but a small price to 
pay for the good- will and affection of the people 
you converse with. As the generality of people 
are weak enough to be pleased with these little 
things, those who refuse to please them so cheaply 
are, in my mind, weaker than they. 



IX. 

THE "ABSENT MAN." -THOUGHTFULNESS. 

Bath, Oct. 9, o. s. 1746. 
Dear Boy, — 

What is commonly called an absent man is com- 
monly either a very weak or a very affected man ; 
but be he which he will, he is. I am sure, a very 



46 LETTERS OF LORD CHESTERFIELD 

disagreeable man in company. He fails in all the 
common offices of civility ; he seems not to know 
those people to-day whom yesterday he appeared 
to live in intimacy with ; he takes no part in the 
general conversation, but on the contrary breaks 
into it from time to time with some start of his own, 
as if he waked from a dream. This (as I said be- 
fore) is a sure indication either of a mind so weak 
that it is not able to bear above one object at a 
time, or so affected that it would be supposed to 
be wholly engrossed by and directed to some very 
great and important objects. Sir Isaac Newton, 
Mr. Locke, and (it may be) five or six more, since 
the creation of the world, may have had a right to 
absence, from that intense thought which the things 
they were investigating required. But if a young 
man, and a man of the world, who has no such 
avocations to plead, will claim and exercise that 
right of absence in company, his pretended right 
should in my mind be turned into an involuntary 
absence by his perpetual exclusion out of company. 
However frivolous a company may be, still while 
you are among them, do not show them by your 
inattention that you think them so ; but rather 
take their tone, and conform in some degree to their 
weakness, instead of manifesting your contempt for 
them. There is nothing that people bear more im- 
patiently or forgive less than contempt ; and an 
injury is much sooner forgotten than an insult. If 
therefore you would rather please than offend, 
rather be well than ill spoken of, rather be loved 
than hated, remember to have that constant atten- 



TO HIS SON. 47 

tion about you which flatters every man's Httle 
vanity, and the want of which, by mortifying his 
pride, never fails to excite his resentment or at 
least his ill will. For instance, most people (I 
might say all people) have their weaknesses ; they 
have their aversions and their likings to such or 
such things ; so that if you were to laugh at a man 
for his aversion to a cat or cheese (which are 
common antipathies), or by inattention and negli- 
gence to let them come in his way where you 
could prevent it, he would in the first case think 
himself insulted and in the second slighted, and 
would remember both. Whereas your care to pro. 
cure for him what he likes and to remove from him 
what he hates, shows him that he is at least an ob- 
ject of your attention ; flatters his vanity, and makes 
him possibly more your friend than a more impor- 
tant service would have done. With regard to 
women, attentions still below these are necessary, 
and by the custom of the world, in some measure 
due, according to the laws of good breeding. 

My long and frequent letters, which I send you 
in great doubt of their success, put me in mind of 
certain papers, which you have very lately, and I 
formerly, sent up to kites along the string, which we 
called messengers ; some of them the wind used to 
blow away, others were torn by the string, and but 
few of them got up and stuck to the kite. But I 
will content myself now, as I did then, if some of 
my present messengers do but stick to you. Adieu ! 



48 LETTERS OF LORD CHESTERFIELD 



TRUE PLEASURE INCONSISTENT WITH VICE. 

London, March 27, o. s. 1747. 

Dear Boy, — Pleasure is the rock which most 
young people split upon. They launch out with 
crowded sails in quest of it, but without a compass 
to direct their course, or reason sufficient to steer 
the vessel ; for want of which, pain and shame, 
instead of pleasure, are the returns of their voyage. 
Do not think that I mean to snarl at pleasure like 
a Stoic, or to preach against it like a parson ; no, 
I mean to point it out, and recommend it to you, 
like an Epicurean. I wish you a great deal, and my 
only view is to hinder you from mistaking it. 

The character which most young men first aim at 
is that of a man of pleasure ; but they generally 
take it upon trust, and instead of consulting their 
own taste and inclinations, they blindly adopt what- 
ever those with whom they chiefly converse are 
pleased to call by the name of pleasure ; and a man 
of pleasure^ in the vulgar acceptation of that phrase, 
means only a beastly drunkard, an abandoned rake, 
and a profligate swearer and curser. As it may be 
of use to you, I am not unwilling, though at the 
same time ashamed, to own that the vices of my 
youth proceeded much more from my silly resolu- 
tion of being what I heard called a Man of Pleasure 
than from my own inclinations. I always naturally 
hated drinking ; and yet I have often drunk, with 



TO HIS SON. 49 

disgust at the time, attended by great sickness the 
next day, only because I then considered drinking 
as a necessary quahfication for a fine gentleman 
and a Man of Pleasure. 

The same as to gaming. I did not want money, 
and consequently had no occasion to play for it ; 
but I thought play another necessary ingredient in 
the composition of a Man of Pleasure, and accord- 
ingly I plunged into it without desire at first, sac- 
rificed a thousand real pleasures to it, and made 
myself soHdly uneasy by it for thirty the best years 
of my life. 

I was even absurd enough for a little while to 
swear, by way of adorning and completing the 
shining character which I affected ; but this folly I 
soon laid aside upon finding both the guilt and the 
indecency of it. 

Thus seduced by fashion, and blindly adopting 
nominal pleasures, I lost real ones ; and my fortune 
impaired and my constitution shattered are, I must 
confess, the just punishment of my errors. 

Take warning then by them ; choose your pleas- 
ures for yourself, and do not let them be imposed 
upon you. Follow Nature, and not fashion ; weigh 
the present enjoyment of your pleasures against the 
necessary consequences of them, and then let your 
own common-sense determine your choice. 

Were I to begin the world again with the experi- 
ence which I now have of it, I would lead a life of real 
not of imaginary pleasure. I would enjoy the pleas- 
ures of the table and of wine, but stop short of the 
pains inseparably annexed to an excess in either. I 
4 



50 LETTERS OF LORD CHESTERFIELD 

would not, at twenty years, be a preaching mission- 
ary of abstemiousness and sobriety, and I should let 
other people do as they would without formally and 
sententiously rebuking them for it ; but I would be 
most firmly resolved not to destroy my own facul- 
ties and constitution in compliance to those who 
have no regard to their own. I would play to give 
me pleasure, but not to give me pain ; that is, I 
would play for trifles, in mixed companies, to amuse 
myself and conform to custom ; but I would take 
care not to venture for sums which, if I won, I 
should not be the better for, but if I lost, should 
be under a difficulty to pay, and when paid would 
oblige me to retrench in several other articles, — not 
to mention the quarrels which deep play commonly 
occasions. 

I would pass some of my time in reading and 
the rest in the company of people of sense and 
learning, and chiefly those above me ; and I would 
frequent the mixed companies of men and women 
of fashion, which, though often frivolous, yet they 
unbend and refresh the mind, not uselessly because 
they certainly polish and soften the manners. 



XL 



A SHOWY BINDING. — TRUE ATTIC SALT. 

London, April 3, o. s. 1747. 
Dear Boy, — If I am rightly informed, I am now 
wnting to a fine gentleman in a scarlet coat laced 



TO HIS SON. 51 

with gold, a brocade waistcoat, and all other suitable 
ornaments. The natural partiality of every author 
for his own works makes me very glad to hear tha: 
Mr. Harte has thought this last edition of mine worth 
so fine a binding; and as he has bound it in red 
and gilt it upon the back, I hope he will take care 
that it shall be lettered too. A showish binding at 
tracts the eyes, and engages the attention of every- 
body, — but with this difference, that women, and 
men who are like women, mind the binding more 
than the book ; whereas men of sense and learning 
immediately examine the inside, and if they find 
that it does not answer the finery on the outside, 
they throw it by with the greater indignation and 
contempt. I hope that when this edition of my 
works shall be opened and read, the best judges will 
find connection, consistency, solidity, and spirit in 
it. Mr. Harte may recensere and emendare as much 
as he pleases ; but it will be to little purpose, if you 
do not co-operate with him. The work will be 
imperfect. . . . 

I like your account of the salt-works, which shows 
that you gave some attention while you were seeing 
them. But notwithstanding that by your account 
the Swiss salt is (I dare say) very good, yet I am 
apt to suspect that it falls a little short of the true 
Attic salt, in which there was a peculiar quickness 
and deUcacy. That same Attic salt seasoned almost 
all Greece except Boeotia ; and a great deal of it was 
exported afterwards to Rome, where it was coun- 
terfeited by a composition called Urbanity, which 
in some time was brought to very near the perfection 



52 LETTERS OF LORD CHESTERFIELD 

of the original Attic salt. The more you are pow- 
dered with these two kinds of salt, the better you 
will keep and the more you will be relished. 



XII. 

EPISTOLARY MODELS. 

London, July 20, o. s. 1747. 
. . . Apropos of letter-writing, the best models 
that you can form yourself upon are Cicero, Car- 
dinal d'Ossat, Madame Sevign^, and Comte Bussy 
Rabutin. Cicero's Epistles to Atticus, and to his 
familiar friends, are the best examples that you can 
imitate in the friendly and the familiar style. The 
simplicity and the clearness of Cardinal d'Ossat's 
letters show how letters of business ought to be writ- 
ten ; no affected turns, no attempts at wit obscure 
or perplex his matter, which is always plainly and 
clearly stated, as business always should be. For 
gay and amusing letters, for enjouement and badi- 
nage, there are none that equal Comte Bussy's and 
Madame Sevign^'s. They are so natural that they 
seem to be the extempore conversations of two 
people of wit, rather than letters, — which are com- 
monly studied, though they ought not to be so. I 
would advise you to let that book be one in your 
itinerant library; it will both amuse and inform 
you. 



TO HIS SON. 5 3 

XIII. 

TOLERANCE AND TRUTH RECOMMENDED. 

London, Sept. 21, o. s. 1747. 
Dear Boy, — I received by the last post your 
letter of the 8th, n. s., and I do not wonder that 
you are surprised at the credulity and superstition 
of the Papists at Einsiedlen, and at their absurd 
stories of their chapel. But remember at the same 
time that errors and mistakes, however gross, in 
matters of opinion, if they are sincere, are to be 
pitied, but not punished nor laughed at. The blind- 
ness of the understanding is as much to be pitied 
as the bUndness of the eye ; and there is neither 
jest nor guilt in a man's losing his way in either 
case. Charity bids us set him right if we can, by 
arguments and persuasions ; but charity at the 
same time forbids either to punish or ridicule his 
misfortune. Every man's reason is, and must be, 
his guide ; and I may as well expect that every 
man should be of my size and complexion as that 
he should reason just as I do. Every man seeks for 
truth ; but God only knows who has found it. It 
is therefore as unjust to persecute as it is absurd 
to ridicule people for those several opinions which 
they cannot help entertaining upon the conviction 
of their reason. It is the man who tells or who 
acts a lie that is guilty, and not he who honestly 
and sincerely believes the lie. I really know nothing 
more criminal, more mean, and more ridiculous than 



54 LETTERS OF LORD CHESTERFIELD 

lying. It is the production either of malice, cow- 
ardice, or vanity, and generally misses of its aim in 
every one of these views; for lies are always de- 
tected sooner or later. If I tell a malicious lie in 
order to affect any man's fortune or character, I 
may indeed injure him for some time, but I shall 
be sure to be the greatest sufferer myself at last ; 
for as soon as ever I am detected (and detected I 
most certainly shall be), I am blasted for the in- 
famous attempt, and whatever is said afterwards 
to the disadvantage of that person, however true, 
passes for calumny. If I lie or equivocate, for it is 
the same thing, in order to excuse myself for some- 
thing that I have said or done, and to avoid the 
danger and the shame that I apprehend from it, I 
discover at once my fear as well as my falsehood, 
and only increase instead of avoiding the danger 
and the shame ; I show myself to be the lowest and 
the meanest of mankind, and am sure to be always 
treated as such. Fear, instead of avoiding, invites 
danger, for concealed cowards will insult known 
ones. If one has had the misfortune to be in the 
wrong, there is something noble in frankly owning 
it ; it is the only way of atoning for it, and the 
only way of being forgiven. Equivocating, evading, 
shuffling, in order to remove a present danger or 
inconveniency, is something so mean and betrays so 
much fear, that whoever practises them always de- 
serves to be and often will be kicked. There is 
another sort of lies, inoffensive enough in them- 
selves, but wonderfully ridiculous ; I mean those 
lies which a mistaken vanity suggests, that defeat 



TO HIS SON. 55 

the very end for which they are calculated, and ter- 
minate in the humiliation and confusion of their 
author, who is sure to be detected. These are 
chiefly narrative and historical lies, all intended to 
do infinite honor to their author. He is always the 
hero of his own romances ; he has been in dangers 
from which nobody but himself ever escaped; he 
has seen with his own eyes whatever other people 
have heard or read of; and has ridden more miles 
post in one day than ever courier went in two. He 
is soon discovered, and as soon becomes the object 
of universal contempt and ridicule. Remember 
then, as long as you live, that nothing but strict 
truth can carry you through the world with either 
your conscience or your honor unwounded. It is 
not only your duty, but your interest, — as a proof 
of which you may always observe that the greatest 
fools are the greatest liars. For my own part, 
I judge of every man's truth by his degree of 
understanding. 



XIV. 

CAUTION IN FORMING FRIENDSHIPS. —GOOD 
COMPANY. 

London, Oct. 9, o. s. 1747. 
Dear Boy, — People of your age have, com- 
monly, an unguarded frankness about them, which 
makes them the easy prey and bubbles ^ of the artful 
1 Dupes. 



56 LETTERS OF LORD CHESTERFIELD 

and the experienced ; they look upon every knave 
or fool who tells them that he is their friend to be 
really so ; and pay that profession of simulated 
friendship with an indiscreet and unbounded confi- 
dence, always to their loss, often to their ruin. 
Beware therefore, now that you are coming into 
the world, of these proffered friendships. Receive 
them with great civility but with great incredulity 
too, and pay them with compliments but not with 
confidence. Do not let your vanity and self-love 
make you suppose that people become your friends 
at first sight or even upon a short acquaintance. 
Real friendship is a slow grower, and never thrives 
unless ingrafted upon a stock of known and recip- 
rocal merit. 

There is another kind of nominal friendship 
among young people, which is warm for the time, 
but by good luck of short duration. This friend- 
ship is hastily produced by their being accidently 
thrown together and pursuing the same course of 
riot and debauchery. A fine friendship truly, and 
well cemented by drunkenness and lewdness ! It 
should rather be called a conspiracy against morals 
and good manners, and be punished as such by the 
civil magistrate. However, they have the impudence 
and folly to call this confederacy a friendship. They 
lend one another money for bad purposes ; they 
engage in quarrels, offensive and defensive, for their 
accomphces ; they tell one another all they know, 
and often more too, when of a sudden some acci- 
dent disperses them and they think no more of each 
other, unless it be to betray and laugh at their im- 



TO HIS SON. 57 

prudent confidence. Remember to make a great 
difference between companions and friends ; for a 
very complaisant and agreeable companion may, 
and often does, prove a very improper and a very 
dangerous friend. People will in a great degree, 
and not without reason, form their opinion of you 
upon that which they have of your friends ; and 
there is a Spanish proverb which says very justly, 
*' Tell me whom you live with and I will tell you who 
v^ou are." One may fairly suppose that the man who 
makes a knave or a fool his friend has something 
very bad to do or to conceal. But at the same time 
that you carefully decline the friendship of knaves and 
fools, if it can be called friendship, there is no occa- 
sion to make either of them your enemies wantonly 
and unprovoked, for they are numerous bodies ; and 
I would rather choose a secure neutrality than alli- 
ance or war with either of them. You may be a 
declared enemy to their vices and follies without 
being marked out by them as a personal one. Their 
enmity is the next dangerous thing to their friend- 
ship. Have a real reserve with almost everybody, 
and have a seeming reserve with almost nobody; 
for it is very disagreeable to seem reserved, and 
very dangerous not to be so. Few people find the 
true medium; many are ridiculously mysterious 
and reserved upon trifles, and many imprudently 
communicative of all they know. 

The next thing to the choice of your friends is 
the choice of your company. Endeavor as much as 
you can to keep company with people above you ; 
there you rise as much as you sink with people be- 



) 



58 LETTERS OF LORD CHESTERFIELD 

low you, for (as I have mentioned before) you 
are whatever the company you keep is. Do not 
mistake when I say company above you and think 
that I mean with regard to their birth, — that is the 
least consideration ; but I mean with regard to their 
merit, and the light in which the world considers them. 
There are two sorts of good company, — one which 
is called the beau monde^ and consists of the people 
who have the lead in courts and in the gay part of 
life ; the other consists of those who are distinguished 
by some peculiar merit, or who excel in some partic- 
ular and valuable art or science. For my own part, 
I used to think myself in company as much above 
me, when I was with Mr. Addison and Mr. Pope,^ 
as if I had been with all the princes in Europe. 
What I mean by low company — which should by 
all means be avoided — is the company of those 
who, absolutely insignificant and contemptible in 
themselves, think they are honored by being in your 
company, and who flatter every vice and every folly 
you have in order to engage you to converse with 
them. The pride of being the first of the company 
is but too common ; but it is very silly and very 
prejudicial. Nothing in the world lets down a char- 
acter quicker than that wrong turn. 

1 This allusion to Pope recalls Lord Chesterfield's epi- 
gram upon a full-length portrait of Beau Nash, placed in 
the Pump Room at Bath between the busts of Newton and 
Pope, — 

" This picture, placed the busts between, 
Gives satire all its strength ; 
Wisdom and Wit are little seen. 
But Folly at full length." 



TO HIS SON. 59 

You may possibly ask me whether a man has it 
always in his power to get the best company, and 
how ? I say, Yes, he has, by deserving it ; provided 
he is but in circumstances which enable him to 
appear upon the footing of a gentleman. Merit 
and good breeding will make their way everywhere. 
Knowledge will introduce him and good breeding 
will endear him to the best companies ; for as I 
have often told you, politeness and good breeding 
are absolutely necessary to adorn any or all other 
good qualities or talents. Without them no knowl- 
edge, no perfection whatever, is seen in its best light. 
The scholar without good breeding is a pedant; 
the philosopher a cynic ; the soldier a brute ; and 
every man disagreeable. 

I long to hear from my several correspondents at 
Leipzig of your arrival there, and what impression 
you make on them at first ; for I have Arguses with 
a hundred eyes each who will watch you narrowly 
and relate to me faithfully. My accounts will cer- 
tainly be true ; it depends upon you entirely of what 
kind they shall be. Adieu. 



XV. 

THE ART OF PLEASING. — INDULGENCE FOR THE 
WEAKNESSES OF OTHERS. 

London, Oct. i6, o. s. 1747. 
Dear Boy, — The art of pleasing is a very neces- 
sary one to possess, but a very difficult one to ac- 
quire. It can hardly be reduced t<^ rules ; and your 



6o LETTERS OF LORD CHESTERFIELD 

own good sense and observation will teach you more 
of it than I can. "Do as you would be done by " 
is the surest method that I know of pleasing. Ob- 
serve carefully what pleases you in others, and prob- 
ably the same thing in you will please others. If 
you are pleased with the complaisance and attention 
of others to your humors, your tastes, or your weak- 
nesses, depend upon it the same complaisance and 
attention on your part to theirs will equally please 
them. Take the tone of the company that you are 
in, and do not pretend to give it ; be serious, gay, 
or even trifling, as you find the present humor of 
the company, — this is an attention due from every 
individual to the majority. Do not tell stories in 
company; there is nothing more tedious and dis- 
agreeable. If by chance you know a very short 
story and exceedingly applicable to the present sub- 
ject of conversation, tell it in as few words as pos- 
sible ; and even then throw out that you do not love 
to tell stories, but that the shortness of it tempted 
you. Of all things banish the egotism out of your 
conversation, and never think of entertaining people 
with your own personal concerns or private affairs. 
Though they are interesting to you, they are tedious 
and impertinent to everybody else ; besides that, 
one cannot keep one's own private affairs too secret. 
Whatever you think your own excellencies may be, 
do not affectedly display them in company, nor la- 
bor, as many people do, to give that turn to the 
conversation which may supply you with an oppor- 
tunity of exhibiting them. If they are real they 
will infallibly be discovered without your pointing 



TO HIS SON. 6 1 

them out yourself, and with much more advantage. 
Never maintain an argument with heat and clamor, 
though you think or know yourself to be in the 
right, but give your opinion modestly and coolly, 
which is the only way to convince ; and if that does 
not do, try to change the conversation by saying, 
with good humor, " We shall hardly convince one 
another, nor is it necessary that we should ; so let 
us talk of something else." 

Remember that there is a local propriety to be 
observed in all companies, and that what is ex- 
tremely proper in one company may be, and often 
is, highly improper in another. 

The jokes, the bon-mots, the little adventures 
which may do very well in one company will seem 
flat and tedious when related in another. The par- 
ticular characters, the habits, the cant of one com- 
pany may give merit to a word or a gesture which 
would have none at all if divested of those acci- 
dental circumstances. Here people very commonly 
err; and fond of something that has entertained 
them in one company and in certain circumstances, 
repeat it with emphasis in another where it is either 
insipid, or, it may be, offensive by being ill-timed or 
misplaced. Nay, they often do it with this silly 
preamble, " I will tell you an excellent thing," or 
" I will tell you the best thing in the world." This 
raises expectations, which when absolutely disap- 
pointed, make the relator of this excellent thing 
look, very deservedly, like a fool. 

If you would particularly gain the affection and 
friendship of particular people, whether men or 



62 LETTERS OF LORD CHESTERFIELD 

women, endeavor to find out their predominant ex- 
cellency, if they have one, and their prevailing weak- 
ness, which everybody has, and do justice to the 
one and something more than justice to the other. 
Men have various objects in which they may excel, 
or at least would be thought to excel ; and though 
they love to hear justice done to them where they 
know that they excel, yet they are most and best 
flattered upon those points where they wish to ex- 
cel and yet are doubtful whether they do or not. 
As, for example, Cardinal Richelieu, who was un- 
doubtedly the ablest statesman of his time, or per- 
haps of any other, had the idle vanity of being 
thought the best poet, too; he envied the great 
Corneille his reputation, and ordered a criticism to 
be written upon the Cid. Those therefore who 
flattered skilfully said little to him of his abihties in 
state affairs, or at least but e7i passant^ and as it 
might naturafly occur. But the incense which they 
gave him the smoke of which they knew would 
turn his head in their favor, was as a bel esprit and a 
poet. Why? Because he was sure of one excel- 
lency, and distrustful as to the other. You will 
easily discover every man's prevailing vanity by ob- 
serving his favorite topic of conversation ; for every 
man talks most of what he has most a mind to be 
thought to excel in. Touch him but there, and you 
touch him to the quick. The late Sir Robert Wal- 
pole (who was certainly an able man) was little 
open to flattery upon that head, for he was in no 
doubt himself about it ; but his prevailing weakness 
was to be thought to have a polite and happy turn 



TO HIS SON. 63 

to gallantry, of which he had undoubtedly less than 
any man living. It was his favorite and frequent 
subject of conversation, which proved to those who 
had any penetration that it was his prevaihng weak- 
ness ; and they applied to it with success. 

Women have in general but one object, which is 
their beauty, upon which scarce any flattery is too 
gross for them to swallow. Nature has hardly 
formed a woman ugly enough to be insensible to 
flattery upon her person ; if her face is so shocking 
that she must in some degree be conscious of it, her 
figure and her air, she trusts, make ample amends 
for it; if her figure is deformed, her face, she 
thinks, counterbalances it; if they are both bad, 
she comforts herself that she has graces, a certain 
manner, a je ne sais quoi ^ still more engaging than 
beauty. This truth is evident from the studied and 
elaborate dress of the ughest women in the world. 
An undoubted, uncontested, conscious beauty is of 
all women the least sensible of flattery upon that 
head ; she knows that it is her due, and is therefore 
obliged to nobody for giving it her. She must be 
flattered upon her understanding, which though she 
may possibly not doubt of herself, yet she suspects 
that men may distrust. 

Do not mistake me and think that I mean to 
recommend to you abject and criminal flattery. 
No, flatter nobody's vices or crimes ; on the con- 
trary, abhor and discourage them. But there is no 

1 For an admirable analysis of this expression the reader 
is referred to the letter to his godson dated Aug. 9, 1768, 
and given in this volume at page 293. 



64 LETTERS OF LORD CHESTERFIELD 

living in the world without a complaisant indulgence 
for people's weaknesses and innocent though ridic- 
ulous vanities. If a man has a mind to be thought 
wiser and a woman handsomer than they really are, 
their error is a comfortable one to themselves and 
an innocent one with regard to other people ; and I 
would rather make them my friends by indulging 
them in it than my enemies by endeavoring — and 
that to no purpose — to undeceive them. 

There are little attentions likewise which are in- 
finitely engaging, and which sensibly affect that de- 
gree of pride and self-love which is inseparable from 
human nature, as they are unquestionable proofs of 
the regard and consideration which we have for the 
person to whom we pay them. As, for example, to 
observe the little habits, the likings, the antipa- 
thies, and the tastes of those whom we would 
gain, and then take care to provide them with the 
one and to secure them from the other, — giving 
them genteelly to understand that you had observed 
that they liked such a dish or such a room, for 
which reason you had prepared it ; or, on the 
contrary, that having observed they had an aversion 
to such a dish, a dislike to such a person, etc., you 
had taken care to avoid presenting them. Such 
attention to such trifles flatters self-love much 
more than greater things, as it makes people think 
themselves almost the only objects of your thoughts 
and care. 

These are some of the arcana necessary for your 
initiation in the great society of the world. I wish 
I had known them better at your age ; I have paid 



TO HIS SON. 65 

the price of three and fifty years for them, and shall 
not grudge it if you reap the advantage. Adieu. 



XVI. 

ON COMBINING STUDY WITH PLEASURE. 

London, Oct. 30, o. s. 1747. 

In short, be curious, attentive, inquisitive as to 
everything; listlessness and indolence are always 
blamable, but at your age they are unpardonable. 
Consider how precious and how important for all the 
rest of your life are your moments for these next 
three or four years, and do not lose one of them. 
Do not think I mean that you should study all day 
long ; I am far from advising or desiring it ; but I 
desire that you would be doing something or other 
all day long, and not neglect half hours and quarters 
of hours, which at the year's end amount to a great 
sum. For instance, there are many short intervals 
during the day between studies and pleasures ; in- 
stead of sitting idle and yawning in those intervals, 
take up any book, though ever so trifling a one, even 
down to a jest-book, it is still better than doing 
nothing. 

Nor do I call pleasures idleness or time lost, pro- 
vided they are the pleasures of a rational being ; on 
the contrary, a certain portion of your time em- 
ployed in those pleasures is very usefully employed. 
Such are public spectacles, assemblies of good com- 
pany, cheerful suppers, and even balls; but then 
5 



66 LETTERS OF LORD CHESTERFLELD 

these require attention, or else your time is quite 
lost. 

There are a great many people who think them- 
selves employed all day, and who if they were to 
cast up their accounts at night, would find that they 
had done just nothing. They have read two or three 
hours mechanically, without attending to what they 
read, and consequently without either retaining it or 
reasoning upon it. From thence they saunter into 
company, without taking any part in it, and without 
observing the characters of the persons or the sub- 
jects of the conversation ; but are either thinking of 
some trifle, foreign to the present purpose, or often 
not thinking at all, — which silly and idle suspension 
of thought they would dignify with the name of ab- 
sence and distraction. They go afterwards, it may 
be, to the play, where they gape at the company 
and the Hghts, but without minding the very thing 
they went to, — the play. 



XVII. 

A WISE GUIDE THE BEST FRIEND. 

London, Nov. 24, 1747. 

Whatever your pleasures may be, I neither can nor 
shall envy you them, as old people are sometimes 
suspected by young people to do ; and I shall only 
lament, if they should prove such as are unbecoming 
a man of honor or below a man of sense. But you 



TO HIS SON. 6y 

will be the real sufferer if they are such. As there- 
fore it is plain that I can have no other motive than 
that of affection in whatever I say to you, you ought 
to look upon me as your best, and for some years to 
come, your only friend. 

True friendship requires certain proportions of age 
and manners, and can never subsist where they are 
extremely different, except in the relations of parent 
and child, where affection on one side and regard 
on the other make up the difference. The friend- 
ship which you may contract with people of your own 
age may be sincere, may be warm, but must be for 
some time reciprocally unprofitable, as there can be 
no experience on either side. The young leading 
the young is like the blind leading the blind, — *^ they 
will both fall into the ditch." The only sure guide 
is he who has often gone the road which you want 
to go. Let me be that guide, who have gone all 
roads, and who can consequently point out to you 
the best. If you ask me why I went any of the bad 
roads myself, I will answer you very truly that it 
was for want of a good guide ; ill example invited 
me one way, and a good guide was wanting to show 
me a better. But if anybody capable of advising me 
had taken the same pains with me which I have 
taken, and will continue to take with you, I should 
have avoided many follies and inconveniences which 
undirected youth run me into. My father was neither 
desirous nor able to advise me ; ^ which is what, I 

1 Lord Chesterfield's father seems to have contracted a 
dislike to him ; and his early training fell to the care of his 
grandmother, Lady Halifax. 



68 LETTERS OF LORD CHESTERFIELD 

hope, you cannot say of yours. You see that I make 
use only of the word " advice," because I would much 
rather have the assent of your reason to my advice 
than the submission of your will to my authority. 
This, I persuade myself, will happen from that de- 
gree of sense which I think you have ; and therefore 
I will go on advising, and with hopes of success. 



XVIII. 

THE VALUE OF TIME. 

London, Dec. ii, o. s. 1747. 
Dear Boy, — There is nothing which I more wish 
that you should know, and which fewer people do 
know, than the true use and value of Time. It is 
in everybody's mouth, but in few people's practice. 
Every fool who slatterns away his whole time in 
nothings, utters, however, some trite common- 
place sentence, of which there are millions, to 
prove at once the value and the fleetness of time. 
The sun-dials, likewise, all over Europe have 
some ingenious inscription to that effect ; so that 
nobody squanders away their time without hearing 
and seeing daily how necessary it is to employ it 
well, and how irrecoverable it is if lost. But all these 
admonitions are useless where there is not a fund of 
good sense and reason to suggest them rather than 
receive them. By the manner in which you now 
tell me that you employ your time, I flatter myself 



TO HIS SON. 6g 

that you have that fund ; that is the fund which will 
make you rich indeed. I do not therefore mean 
to give you a critical essay upon the use and abuse 
of time, but I will only give you some hints with 
regard to the use of one particular period of that 
long time which, I hope, you have before you ; I 
mean the next two years. Remember then, that 
whatever knowledge you do not soUdly lay the 
foundation of before you are eighteen, you will never 
be the master of while you breathe. Knowledge is a 
comfortable and necessary retreat and shelter lor us 
in an advanced age ; and if we do not plant it 
while young, it will give us no shade when we grow 
old. I neither require nor expect from you great 
application to books after you are once thrown out 
into the great world. I know it is impossible, and it 
may even in some cases be improper; this there- 
fore is your time, and your only time, for unwearied 
and uninterrupted application. If you should some- 
times think it a little laborious, consider that labor 
is the unavoidable fatigue of a necessary journey. 
The more hours a day you travel, the sooner you 
will be at your journey's end. The sooner you are 
qualified for your liberty, the sooner you shall have 
it ; and your manumission will entirely depend upon 
the manner in which you employ the intermediate 
time. I think I offer you a very good bargain 
when I promise you upon my word that if you will 
do everything that I would have yo*i do till you 
are eighteen, I will do everything that you would 
have me do ever afterwards. 



70 LETTERS OF LORD CHESTERFIELD 



XIX. 

TIME WELL AND TIME ILL SPENT. — OBSERVATION 
RECOMiMENDED. 

Bath, Feb. i6, o. s. 1748. 
Dear Boy, — The first use that I made of my hb- 
erty ^ was to come hither, where I arrived yesterday. 
My health, though not fundamentally bad, yet for 
want of proper attention of late wanted some repairs, 
which these waters never fail giving it. I shall drink 
them a month, and return to London, there to en- 
joy the comforts of social Ufe instead of groaning 
under the load of business. I have given the 
description of the Hfe that I propose to lead for the 
future in this motto, which I have put up in the 
frieze of my Hbrary in my new house,^ — 

Nunc veterum libris, nunc somno et, inertibus horis 
Ducere sollicitae jucunda oblivia vitae. 

I must observe to you upon this occasion that the 
uninterrupted satisfaction which I expect to find in 
that library will be chiefly owing to my having em- 
ployed some part of my life well at your age. I 
wish I had employed it better, and my satisfaction 
would now be complete ; but, however, I planted 
while young that degree of knowledge which is now 
my refuge and my shelter. Make your plantations 
still more extensive ; they will more than pay you for 
your trouble. I do not regret the time that I passed 

1 He had just resigned the office of Secretary of State. 

2 Chesterfield House in London. 



TO H/S SON. 71 

in pleasures ; they were seasonable ; they were the 
pleasures of youth, and I enjoyed them while young. 
If I had not, I should probably have overvalued 
them now, as we are very apt to do what we do not 
know ; but knowing them as I do, I know their real 
value, and how much they are generally overrated. 
Nor do I regret the time that I have passed in business 
for the same reason ; those who see only the out- 
side of it imagine it has hidden charms, which they 
pant after, and nothing but acquaintance can unde- 
ceive them. I, who have been behind the scenes 
both of pleasure and business, and have seen all the 
springs and pulleys of those decorations which as- 
tonish and dazzle the audience, retire not only 
without regret but with contentment and satis- 
faction. But what I do and ever shall regret, is 
the time which, while young, I lost in mere idleness, 
and in doing nothing. This is the common effect of 
the inconsideracy of youth, against which I beg you 
will be most carefully upon your guard. The value 
of moments when cast up is immense, if well em- 
ployed; if thrown away, their loss is irrecoverable. 
Every moment may be put to some use, and that 
with much more pleasure than if unemployed. Do 
not imagine that by the employment of time I 
mean an uninterrupted application to serious studies. 
No ; pleasures are at proper times both as nec- 
essary and as useful ; they fashion and form you for 
the world ; they teach you characters, and show you 
the human heart in its unguarded minutes. But 
then remember to make that use of them. I have 
known many people from laziness of mind go 



72 LETTERS OF LORD ^CHESTERFIELD 

through both pleasure and business with equal inat- 
tention, neither enjoying the one nor doing the 
other ; thinking themselves men of pleasure because 
they were mingled with those who were, and men of 
business because they had business to do, though 
they did not do it. Whatever you do, do it to the 
purpose; do it thoroughly, not superficially. Ap- 
profondissez : go to the bottom of things. Anything 
half done or half known is, in my mind, neither done 
nor known at all. Nay, worse, for it often misleads. 
There is hardly any place or any company where 
you may not gain knowledge, if you please ; almost 
everybody knows some one thing, and is glad to 
talk upon that one thing. Seek and you will find, 
in this world as well as in the next. See every- 
thing, inquire into everything ; and you may excuse 
your curiosity and the questions you ask, which 
otherwise might be thought impertinent, by your 
manner of asking them, — for most things depend a 
great deal upon the manner : as for example, " I am 
afraid that I am very troublesome with my ques- 
tions, but nobody can inform me so well as you," or 
something of that kind. 

Now that you are in a Lutheran country, go to 
their churches and observe the manner of their 
public worship; attend to their ceremonies and 
inquire the meaning and intention of every one of 
them. And as you will soon understand German 
well enough, attend to their sermons and observe 
their manner of preaching. Inform yourself of their 
church government, whether it resides in the sove- 
reign or in consistories and synods ; whence arises 



TO HIS SON, 'J'i^ 

the maintenance of their clergy, whether from tithes 
as in England, or from voluntary contributions or 
from pensions from the State. Do the same thing 
when you are in Roman-Catholic countries ; go to 
their churches, see all their ceremonies, ask the 
meaning of them, get the terms explained to you, — 
as, for instance. Prime, Tierce, Sexte, Nones, Matins, 
Angelus, High Mass, Vespers, Complies, etc. In- 
form yourself of their several religious orders, their 
founders, their rules, their vows, their habits, their 
revenues, etc. But when you frequent places of 
public worship, as I would have you go to all the 
different ones you meet with, remember that how- 
ever erroneous, they are none of them objects of 
laughter and ridicule. Honest error is to be pitied, 
not ridiculed. The object of all the public worships 
in the world is the same, — it is that great eternal 
Being who created everything. The different man- 
ners of worship are by no means subjects of ridicule. 
Each sect thinks its own is the best, and I know 
no infallible judge in this world to decide which is 
the best. Make the same inquiries, wherever you 
are, concerning the revenues, the military establish- 
ment, the trade, the commerce, and the police of 
every country. And you would do well to keep a 
blank- paper book, which the Germans call an album ; 
and there, instead of desiring, as they do, every fool 
they meet with to scribble something, write down all 
these things as soon as they come to your knowledge 
from good authorities. 



74 LETTERS OF LORD CHESTERFIELD 
XX. 

RIGHT USE OF LEARNING: ABSURDITIES OF 
PEDANTRY. 

Bath, Feb. 22, o. s. 1748. 
Dear Boy, — Every excellency, and every virtue, 
has its kindred vice or weakness, and if carried be- 
yond certain bounds sinks into one or the other. 
Generosity often runs into profusion, economy into 
avarice, courage into rashness, caution into timidity, 
and so on, insomuch that I believe there is more 
judgment required for the proper conduct of our 
virtues than for avoiding their opposite vices. Vice 
in its true light is so deformed that it shocks us at 
first sight, and would hardly ever seduce us, if it did 
not at first wear the mask of some virtue. But 
virtue is in itself so beautiful, that it charms us at 
first sight ; engages us more and more upon further 
acquaintance ; and as with other beauties, we think 
excess impossible. It is here that judgment is neces- 
sary to moderate and direct the effects of an excel- 
lent cause. I shall apply this reasoning at present 
not to any particular virtue, but to an excellency, 
which for want of judgment is often the cause of 
ridiculous and blamable effects; I mean great 
learning, — which if not accompanied with sound 
judgment, frequently carries us into error, pride, and 
pedantry. As I hope you will possess that excel- 
lency in its utmost extent and yet without its too 
common failings, the hints which my experience 
can suggest may probably not be useless to you. 



TO HIS SON. 75 

Some learned men, proud of their knowledge, 
only speak to decide, and give judgment without 
appeal ; the consequence of which is that mankind, 
provoked by the insult and injured by the oppres- 
sion, revolt, and in order to shake off the tyranny, 
even call the lawful authority in question. The 
more you know the modester you should be ; and 
(by the by) that modesty is the surest way of grati- 
fying your vanity. Even where you are sure, seem 
rather doubtful ; represent but do not pronounce ; 
and if you would convince others, seem open to 
conviction yourself. 

Others, to show their learning, or often from the 
prejudices of a school- education, where they hear of 
nothing else, are always talking of the Ancients as 
something more than men and of the Moderns as 
something less. They are never without a classic 
or two in their pockets ; they stick to the old good 
sense ; they read none of the modem trash ; and 
will show you plainly that no improvement has been 
made in any one art or science these last seventeen 
hundred years. I would by no means have you dis- 
own your acquaintance with the ancients, but still 
less would I have you brag of an exclusive intimacy 
with them. Speak of the modems without contempt 
and of the ancients without idolatry ; judge them all 
by their merits, but not by their ages ; and if you 
happen to have an Elzevir classic in your pocket, 
neither show it nor mention it. 

Some great scholars most absurdly draw all their 
maxims, both for public and private life, from what 
they call parallel cases in the ancient authors, with- 



76 LETTERS OF LORD CHESTERFIELD 

out considering that in the first place there nevei 
were, since the creation of the world, two cases 
exactly parallel ; and in the next place that there 
never was a case stated or even known by any 
historian with every one of its circumstances, which 
however ought to be known in order to be reasoned 
from. Reason upon the case itself and the several 
circumstances that attend it, and act accordingly, 
but not from the authority of ancient poets or 
historians. Take into your consideration, if you 
please, cases seemingly analogous ; but take them 
as helps only, not as guides. We are really so pre- 
judiced by our education, that, as the ancients dei- 
fied their heroes, we deify their madmen, — of which, 
with all due regard for antiquity, I take Leonidas 
and Curtius to have been two distinguished ones. 
And yet a solid pedant would, in a speech in Parlia- 
ment relative to a tax of two-pence in the pound 
upon some commodity or other, quote those two 
heroes as examples of what we ought to do and 
suffer for our country. I have known these absurdi- 
ties carried so far by people of injudicious learning 
that I should not be surprised if some of them were 
to propose, while we are at war with the Gauls, that 
a number of geese should be kept in the Tower, 
upon account of the infinite advantage which Rome 
received in a parallel case from a certain number 
of geese in the Capitol. This way of reasoning 
and this way of speaking will always form a poor 
politician and a puerile declaimer. 

There is another species of learned men, who 
though less dogmatical and supercilious, are not less 



TO HIS SON. jy 

impertinent. These are the communicative and 
shining pedants who adorn their conversation, even 
with women, by happy quotations of Greek and 
Latin, and who have contracted such a familiarity 
with the Greek and Roman authors that they call 
them by certain names or epithets denoting inti- 
macy, — as old Homer ; that sly rogue Horace ; 
Maro, instead of Virgil; and Naso, instead of Ovid. 
These are often imitated by coxcombs who have no 
learning at all, but who have got some names and 
some scraps of ancient authors by heart, which they 
improperly and impertinently retail in all companies, 
in hopes of passing for scholars. If therefore you 
would avoid the accusation of pedantry on one hand, 
or the suspicion of ignorance on the other, abstain 
from learned ostentation. Speak the language of 
the company that you are in ; speak it purely, and 
unlarded with any other. Never seem wiser nor 
more learned than the people you are with. Wear 
your learning, like your watch, in a private pocket, 
and do not pull it out and strike it merely to show 
that you have one. If you are asked what o'clock 
it is, tell it, but do not proclaim it hourly and 
unasked, like the watchman. 



XXI. 

THE GRACES. — THE ABSURDITY OF LAUGHTER. 

Bath, March 9, o. s. 1748. 
Dear Boy, — I must from time to time remind 
you of what I have often recommended to you, and 



78 LETTERS OF LORD CHESTERFIELD 

of what you cannot attend to too much, — Sacrifice to 
the Graces. The different effects of the same things 
said or done when accompanied or abandoned by 
them, is almost inconceivable. They prepare the 
way to the heart ; and the heart has such an influ- 
ence over the understanding, that it is worth while 
to engage it in our interest. It is the whole of 
women, who are guided by nothing else ; and it has 
so much to say even with men, and the ablest men 
too, that it commonly triumphs in every struggle with 
the understanding. Monsieur de Rochefoucault, 
in his Maxims, says that "I'esprit est souvent la 
dupe du coeur." If he had said, instead of souvent^ 
presqtte totijours, I fear he would have been nearer 
the truth. This being the case, aim at the heart. 
Intrinsic merit alone will not do. It will gain you 
the general esteem of all, but not the particular af- 
fection, that is, the heart, of any. To engage the 
affection of any particular person, you must, over 
and above your general merit, have some particular 
merit to that person by services done or offered, by 
expressions of regard and esteem, by complaisance, 
attentions, etc., for him ; and the graceful manner of 
doing all these things opens the way to the heart, 
and facilitates or rather insures their effects. From 
your own observation, reflect what a disagreeable 
impression an awkward address, a slovenly figure, 
an ungraceful manner of speaking, — whether stut- 
tering, muttering, monotony, or drawling, — an un- 
attentive behavior, etc., make upon you, at first 
sight, in a stranger, and how they prejudice you 
against him, though for aught you know he may 



TO HIS SON. 79 

have great intrinsic sense and merit. And reflect 
on the other hand how much the opposites of all 
these things prepossess you at first sight in favor of 
those who enjoy them. You wish to find all good 
qualities in them, and are in some degree disap- 
pointed if you do not. A thousand little things, not 
separately to be defined, conspire to form these 
graces, this je ne sais quoi, that always pleases. A 
pretty person, genteel motions, a proper degree of 
dress, an harmonious voice, something open and 
cheerful in the countenance but without laughing, 
a distinct and properly varied manner of speaking, — 
all these things, and many others, are necessary in- 
gredients in the composition of the pleasing yV ne 
sais quoiy which everybody feels though nobody can 
describe. Observe carefully, then, what displeases 
or pleases you in others, and be persuaded that in 
general the same things will please or displease 
them in you. Having mentioned laughing, I must 
particularly warn you against it ; and I could heart- 
ily wish that you may often be seen to smile but 
never heard to laugh while you live. Frequent and 
loud laughter is the characteristic of folly and ill 
manners ; it is the manner in which the mob express 
their silly joy at silly things ; and they call it being 
merry. In my mind, there is nothing so illiberal 
and so ill bred as audible laughter. True wit or 
sense never yet made anybody laugh; they are 
above it ; they please the mind, and give a cheer- 
fulness to the countenance. But it is low buffoon- 
ery or silly accidents that always excite laughter; 
and that is what people of sense and breeding 



80 LETTERS OF LORD CHESTERF/ELD 

should show themselves above. A man's going to 
sit down in the supposition that he has a chair be- 
hind him, and falling down for want of one, sets a 
whole company a-laughing, when all the wit in the 
world would not do it, — a plain proof in my mind 
how low and unbecoming a thing laughter is, not to 
mention the disagreeable noise that it makes, and 
the shocking distortion of the face that it occasions. 
Laughter is easily restrained by a very little reflec- 
tion j but as it is generally connected with the idea 
of gayety, people do not enough attend to its absurd- 
ity. I am neither of a melancholy nor a cynical 
disposition, and am as willing and as apt to be 
pleased as anybody; but I am sure that since I 
have had the full use of my reason, nobody has ever 
heard me laugh. Many people, at first from awk- 
wardness and mauvaise honte^ have got a very dis- 
agreeable and silly trick of laughing whenever they 
speak ; and I know a man of very good parts, Mr. 
Waller, who cannot say the commonest thing with- 
out laughing, which makes those who do not know 
him take him at first for a natural fool. This and 
many other very disagreeable habits are owing to 
mauvaise honte at their first setting out in the world. 
They are ashamed in company, and so disconcerted 
that they do not know what they do, and try a tho.u- 
sand tricks to keep themselves in countenance, 
which tricks afterwards grow habitual to them. 
Some scratch their heads, others twirl their hats ; in 
short, every awkward, ill-bred body has his trick. 
But the frequency does not justify the thing, and all 
these vulgar habits and awkwardnesses, though not 



TO HIS SON. 8 1 

criminal, indeed, are most carefully to be guarded 
against, as they are great bars in the way of the art 
of pleasing. Remember that to please is almost to 
prevail, or at least a necessary previous step to it. 



XXII. 

DISSIMULATION FOUND NOT ONLY IN COURTS- 
TRITE OBSERVATIONS. 

London, May lo, 1748. 

It is a trite and commonplace observation that 
Courts are the seat of falsehood and dissimulation. 
That, like many, I might say most, commonplace 
observations, is false. Falsehood and dissimulation 
are certainly to be found at courts j but where are 
they not to be found? Cottages have them as 
well as courts, only with worse manners. A couple 
of neighboring farmers in a village will contrive and 
practise as many tricks to overreach each other at 
the next market, or to supplant each other in the 
favor of the squire, as any two courtiers can do to 
supplant each other in the favor of their prince. 
Whatever poets may write, or fools believe, of rural 
innocence and truth and of the perfidy of courts, 
this is most undoubtedly true, — that shepherds and 
ministers are both men, their nature and passions 
the same, the modes of them only different. 

Having mentioned commonplace observations, I 
will particularly caution you against either using, be- 
6 



82 LETTERS OF LORD CHESTERFIELD 

lieving, or approving them. They are the common 
topics of witlings and coxcombs ; those who really 
have wit have the utmost contempt for them, and 
scorn even to laugh at the pert things that those 
would-be wits say upon such subjects. 

Religion is one of their favorite topics. It is all 
priestcraft, and an invention contrived and carried 
on by priests of all religions for their own power 
and profit. From this absurd and false principle 
flow the commonplace insipid jokes and insults 
upon the clergy. With these people, every priest, 
of every religion, is either a public or a concealed 
unbeliever, drunkard, and rake ; whereas I conceive 
that priests are extremely like other men, and 
neither the better nor the worse for wearing a gown 
or a surplice ; but if they are different from other 
people, probably it is rather on the side of relig- 
ion and morality, or at least decency, from theil 
education and manner of life. 

Another common topic for false wit and cold 
raillery is matrimony. Every man and his wife hate 
each other cordially, whatever they may pretend 
in public to the contrary. The husband certainly 
wishes his wife at the devil, and the wife certainly 
deceives her husband ; whereas I presume that men 
and their wives neither love nor hate each other the 
more upon account of the form of matrimony which 
has been said over them. 

These, and many other commonplace reflections 
upon nations, or professions in general, — which are 
at least as often false as true, — are the poor refuge 



TO HIS SON. 83 

of people who have neither wit nor invention of 
their own, but endeavor to shine in company by 
second-hand finery. I always put these pert jacka- 
napeses out of countenance by looking extremely 
grave when they expect that I should laugh at their 
pleasantries ; and by saying well^ and so, as if they 
had not done, and that the sting were still to come. 
This disconcerts them, as they have no resources in 
themselves and have but one set of jokes to live 
upon. 



XXIII. 

AN AWKWARD MAN AT COURT. —WELL-BRED EASE. 

London, May 17, o. s. 1748. 
Dear Boy, — I received yesterday your letter of 
the 1 6th, N. s., and have in consequence of it writ- 
ten this day to Sir Charles Williams to thank him 
for all the civilities he has shown you. Your first 
setting out at court has, I find, been very favor- 
able, and his PoHsh Majesty has distinguished you. 
I hope you received that mark of distinction with 
respect and with steadiness, which is the proper be- 
havior of a man of fashion. People of a low, 
obscure education cannot stand the rays of great- 
ness; they are frightened out of their wits when 
kings and great men speak to them ; they are awk- 
ward, ashamed, and do not know what or how to 
answer; whereas, les honnites gens are not dazzled 



84 LETTERS OF LORD CHESTERFIELD 

by superior rank; they know and pay all the re- 
spect that is due to it ; but they do it without being 
disconcerted, and can converse just as easily with a 
king as with any one of his subjects. That is the 
great advantage of being introduced young into 
good company, and being used early to converse 
with one's superiors. How many men have I seen 
here, who, after having had the full benefit of an 
English education, first at school and then at the 
university, when they have been presented to the 
king did not know whether they stood upon their 
heads or their heels ! If the king spoke to them, 
they were annihilated; they trembled, endeavored 
to put their hands in their pockets, and missed 
them ; let their hats fall and were ashamed to take 
them up ; and in short, put themselves in every 
attitude but the right, that is, the easy and natural 
one. The characteristic of a well-bred man is to 
converse with his inferiors without insolence, and 
with his superiors with respect and ease. He talks 
to kings without concern ; he trifles with women of 
the first condition with familiarity, gayety, but re- 
spect • and converses with his equals whether he is 
acquainted with them or not, upon general common 
topics that are not however quite frivolous, without 
the least concern of mind or awkwardness of body, 
neither of which can appear to advantage but when 
they are perfectly easy. 



v" 



TO HIS sojsr, 85 



XXIV. 

THE LAZY MIND AND THE FRIVOLOUS MIND. 

London, ^uly 26, o. s. 1748. 
Dear Boy, — There are two sorts of understand- 
ings, one of which hinders a man from ever being 
considerable, and the other commonly makes him 
ridiculous, — I mean the lazy mind and the trifling, 
frivolous mind. Yours I hope is neither. The 
lazy mind will not take the trouble of going to 
the bottom of anything, but discouraged by the 
first difficulties (and everything worth knowing or 
having is attained with some), stops short, contents 
itself with easy and consequently superficial knowl- 
edge, and prefers a great degree of ignorance to a 
small degree of trouble. These people either think 
or represent most things as impossible, whereas 
few things are so to industry and activity. But 
difficulties seem to them impossibilities, or at least 
they pretend to think them so by way of excuse for 
their laziness. An hour's attention to the same 
subject is too laborious for them ; they take every- 
thing in the light in which it first presents itself, 
never consider it in all its different views, and in 
short never think it thorough. The consequence 
of this is that when they come to speak upon 
these subjects before people who have considered 
them with attention, they only discover their own 
ignorance and laziness, and lay themselves open to 
answers that put them in confiision. Do not then 



86 LETTERS OF LORD CHESTERFIELD 

be discouraged by the first difficulties, but contra 
audeniior ito ; and resolve to go to the bottom of 
all those things which every gentleman ought to 
know well. Those arts or sciences which are 
peculiar to certain professions need not be deeply 
known by those who are not intended for those 
professions ; as, for instance, fortification and 
navigation ; of both which, a superficial and general 
knowledge such as the common course of conversa- 
tion with a very little inquiry on your part will 
give you, is sufficient. Though, by the way, a little 
more knowledge of fortification may be of some use 
to you, as the events of war in sieges make many 
of the terms of that science occur frequently in 
common conversation; and one would be sorry to 
say, like the Marquis de Mascarille in Moli^re's 
" Pr^cieuses Ridicules," when he hears of une demie 
lune, *' Ma foi ! c'dtoit bien une lune toute enti^re." 
But those things which every gentleman, indepen- 
dently of profession, should know, he ought to 
know well, and dive into all the depth of them. 
Such are languages, history, and geography, ancient 
and modern, philosophy, rational logic, rhetoric ; 
and for you particularly, the constitutions, and the 
civil and military state of every country in Europe. 
This, I confess, is a pretty large circle of knowledge, 
attended with some difficulties, and requiring some 
trouble ; which, however, an active and industrious 
mind will overcome, and be amply repaid. The 
trifling and frivolous mind is always busied, but to 
little purpose ; it takes little objects for great ones, 
and throws away upon trifles that time and atten- 



TO HIS SON, 87 

tion which only important things deserve. Knick- 
knacks, butterflies, shells, insects, etc., are the 
subjects of their most serious researches. They 
contemplate the dress, not the characters, of the 
company they keep. They attend more to the 
decorations of a play than to the sense of it, and to 
the ceremonies of a court more than to its politics. 
Such an employment of time is an absolute loss of 
it. You have now, at most, three years to employ, 
either well or ill ; for as I have often told you, you 
will be all your life what you shall be three years 
hence. For God's sake then reflect. Will you 
throw this time away either in laziness or in trifles ; 
or will you not rather employ every moment of it 
in a manner that must so soon reward you with so 
much pleasure, figure, and character? I cannot, I 
win not, doubt of your choice. Read only useful 
books ; and never quit a subject till you are thor- 
oughly master of it, but read and inquire on till 
then. When you are in company, bring the con- 
versation to some useful subject, but a portee of that 
company. Points of history, matters of literature, 
the customs of particular countries, the several 
orders of knighthood, as Teutonic, Maltese, etc., are 
surely better subjects of conversation than the 
weather, dress, or fiddle-faddle stories that carry no 
information along with them. The characters of 
kings and great men are only to be learned in 
conversation; for they are never fairly written 
during their lives. This therefore is an entertain- 
ing and instructive subject of conversation, and 
vdll likewise give you an opportunity of observing 



88 LETTERS OF LORD CHESTERFIELD 

how very differently characters are given from the 
different passions and views of those who give them. 
Never be ashamed nor afraid of asking questions ; 
for if they lead to information, and if you accom- 
pany them with some excuse, you will never be 
reckoned an impertinent or rude questioner. All 
those things, in the common course of life, depend 
entirely upon the manner ; and in that respect the 
vulgar saying is true, "That one man can better 
steal a horse than another look over the hedge." 
There are few things that may not be said in 
some manner or other ; either in a seeming confi- 
dence, or a genteel irony, or introduced with wit ; 
and one great part of the knowledge of the world 
consists in knowing when and where to make use of 
these different manners. The graces of the person, 
the countenance, and the way of speaking con- 
tribute so much to this, that I am convinced the 
very same thing said by a genteel person in an 
engaging way, and gracefully and distinctly spoken, 
would please, which would shock, if muttered out 
by an awkward figure with a sullen, serious counte- 
nance. The poets always represent Venus as at- 
tended by the three Graces, to intimate that even 
beauty will not do without. I think they should 
have given Minerva three also, for without them I 
am sure learning is very unattractive. Invoke them 
then, distinctly f to accompany all your words and 
motions. Adieu. 



TO HIS SON. 89 

XXV. 

HOW HISTORY SHOULD BE READ. 

London, Aug. 30, o. s. 1748. 
Dear Boy, — Your reflections upon the conduct 
of France from the treaty of Miinster to this time 
are very just ; and I am very glad to find by them, 
that you not only read, but that you think and re- 
flect upon what you read. Many great readers load 
their memories without exercising their judgments, 
and make lumber-rooms of their heads instead of 
furnishing them usefully; facts are heaped upon 
facts without order or distinction, and may justly be 
said to compose that 

** Rudis indigestaque moles 



Quam dixere chaos." 
Go on, then, in the way of reading that you are in ; 
take nothing for granted upon the bare authority of 
the author, but weigh and consider in your own 
mmd the probability of the facts and the justness 
of the reflections. Consult different authors upon 
the same facts, and form your opinion upon the 
greater or lesser degree of probability arising from 
the whole, — which in my mind is the utmost stretch 
of historical faith, certainty (I fear) not being to 
be found. When a historian pretends to give you 
the causes and motives of events, compare those 
causes and motives with the characters and interests 
of the parties concerned, and judge for yourself 
whether they correspond or not. Consider whether 
you cannot assign others more probable; and in 



90 LETTERS OF LORD CHESTERFIELD 

that examination do not despise some very mean 
and trifling causes of the actions of great men ; for 
so various and inconsistent is human nature, so 
strong and so changeable are our passions, so fluc- 
tuating are our wills, and so much are our minds 
influenced by the accidents of our bodies, that every 
man is more the man of the day than a regular con- 
sequential character. The best have something bad, 
and something little ; the worst have something 
good, and sometimes something great, — for I do not 
believe what Velleius Paterculus (for the sake of 
saying a pretty thing) says of Scipio, " Qui nihil non 
laudandum aut fecit, aut dixit, aut sensit." As for 
the reflections of historians with which they think 
it necessary to interlard their histories or at least to 
conclude their chapters, — and which in the French 
histories are always introduced with a tant il est 
vrai, and in the English, so true it is, — do not 
adopt them implicitly upon the credit of the author, 
but analyze them yourself, and judge whether they 
are true or not. 



XXVI. 

GENERAL CHARACTER OF WOMEN. — RIGHT USE 
OF WIT. 



London, Sept. 5, o. s. 1748. 



As women are a considerable or at least a pretty 
numerous part of company, and as their suflrages go 



TO HIS SON. 91 

a great way towards establishing a man's character 
in the fashionable part of the world, — which is of 
great importance to the fortune and figure he pro- 
poses to make in it, — it is necessary to please them. 
I will therefore upon this subject let you into cer- 
tain arcana, that will be very useful for you to 
know, but which you must with the utmost care 
conceal, and never seem to know. Women then 
are only children of a larger growth ; they have an 
entertaining tattle and sometimes wit, but for solid, 
reasoning good- sense, I never knew in my life one 
that had it, or who reasoned or acted consequen- 
tially for four-and-twenty hours together. Some 
little passion or humor always breaks in upon their 
best resolutions. Their beauty neglected or con- 
troverted, their age increased, or their supposed 
understandings depreciated instantly kindles their 
little passions, and overturns any system of conse- 
quential conduct that in their most reasonable mo- 
ments they might have been capable of forming. A 
man of sense only trifles with them, plays with 
them, humors and flatters them, as he does with a 
sprightly, forward child ; but he neither consults 
them about nor trusts them with serious matters, 
though he often makes them beheve that he does 
both, which is the thing in the world that they are 
proud of; for they love mightily to be dabbling in 
business, — which, by the way, they always spoil, — 
and being justly distrustful that men in general look 
upon them in a trifling light, they almost adore that 
man who talks more seriously to them, and who 
seems to consult and trust them : I say, who seems ; 



92 LETTERS OF LORD CHESTERFIELD 

for weak men really do, but wise ones only seem to 
do it. No flattery is either too high or too low for 
them; they will greedily swallow the highest and 
gratefully accept of the lowest ; and you may safely 
flatter any woman from her understanding down to 
the exquisite taste of her fan. Women who are 
either indisputably beautiful or indisputably ugly 
are best flattered upon the score of their under- 
standings ; but those who are in a state of medioc- 
rity are best flattered upon their beauty, or at least 
their graces, for every woman who is not abso- 
lutely ugly thinks herself handsome ; but not hearing 
often that she is so is the more grateful and the 
more obliged to the few who tell her so ; whereas 
a decided and conscious beauty looks upon every 
tribute paid to her beauty only as her due, but 
wants to shine and to be considered on the side of 
her understanding ; and a woman who is ugly enough 
to know that she is so, knows that she has nothing 
left for it but her understanding, which is conse- 
quently — and probably in more senses than one — 
her weak side. But these are secrets which you 
must keep inviolably, if you would not like Orpheus 
be torn to pieces by the whole sex ; on the contrary, 
a man who thinks of living in the great world must 
be gallant, polite, and attentive to please the women. 
They have from the weakness of men more or less 
influence in all courts ; they absolutely stamp every 
man's character in the beau monde and make it 
either current, or cry it down and stop it in 
payments. It is therefore absolutely necessary to 
manage, please, and flatter them, and never to dis- 



TO HIS SON. 93 

cover the least marks of contempt, which is what 
they never forgive ; but in this they are not singular, 
for it is the same with men, who will much sooner 
forgive an injustice than an insult. Every man is 
not ambitious, or courteous, or passionate; but 
every man has pride enough in his composition to 
feel and resent the least slight and contempt. Re- 
member therefore most carefully to conceal your 
contempt, however just, wherever you would not 
make an implacable enemy. Men are much more 
anwilling to have their weaknesses and their imper- 
fections known than their crimes ; and if you hint 
to a man that you think him silly, ignorant, or even 
ill bred or awkward, he will hate you more and 
longer than if you tell him plainly that you think 
him a rogue. Never yield to that temptation, which 
to most young men is very strong, of exposing other 
people's weaknesses and infirmities for the sake 
either of diverting the company or showing your 
own superiority. You may get the laugh on your 
side by it for the present, but you will make enemies 
by it forever ; and even those who laugh with you 
then will upon reflection fear, and consequently 
hate you ; besides that, it is ill-natured, and a good 
heart desires rather to conceal than expose other 
people's weaknesses or misfortunes. If you have 
wit, use it to please and not to hurt; you may 
shine like the sun in the temperate zones without 
scorching. Here it is wished for ; under the line it 
is dreaded. 

These are some of the hints which my long ex- 
perience in the great world enables me to give you^ 



94 LETTERS OF LORD CHESTERFIELD 

and which if you attend to them may prove useful 
to you in your journey through it. I wish it may 
be a prosperous one ; at least I am sure that it must 
be your own fault if it is not. 



XXVII. 

OUR TENDENCY TO EXALT THE PAST. -ON SECRETS. 
London, Sept. 13, o. s. 1748. 

Another very just observation of the Cardinal's ^ is, 
that the things which happen in our own times and 
which we see ourselves do not surprise us near so 
much as the things which we read of in times past, 
though not in the least more extraordinary; and 
adds that he is persuaded that when Caligula made 
his horse a consul, the people of Rome at that time 
were not greatly surprised at it, having necessarily 
been in some degree prepared for it by an insensible 
gradation of extravagances from the same quarter. 
This is so true, that we read every day with astonish- 
ment things which we see every day without surprise. 
We wonder at the intrepidity of a Leonidas, a Codrus, 
and a Curtius ; and are not the least surprised to 
hear of a sea-captain who has blown up his ship, his 
crew, and himself, that they might not fall into the 
hands of the enemies of his country. I cannot help 
reading of Porsenna and Regulus with surprise and 
reverence ; and yet I remember that I saw without 

^yi The Cardinal De Retz. / 



TO HIS SON. 95 

either the execution of Shepherd,^ a boy of eighteen 
years old, who intended to shoot the late king, and 
who would have been pardoned if he would have ex- 
pressed the least sorrow for his intended crime ; but 
on the contrary he declared that if he was pardoned 
he would attempt it again ; that he thought it a duty 
which he owed to his country ; and that he died with 
pleasure for having endeavored to perform it. Reason 
equals Shepherd to Regulus j but prejudice and the 
recency of the fact make Shepherd a common male- 
factor and Regulus a hero. 

The last observation that I shall now mention of 
the Cardinal's is " That a secret is more easily kept 
by a good many people than one commonly im- 
agines." By this he means a secret of importance 
among people interested in the keeping of it ; and 
it is certain that people of business know the impor- 
tance of secrecy, and will observe it where they are 
concerned in the event. To go and tell any friend, 
wife, or mistress any secret with which they have 
nothing to do, is discovering to them such an unre- 
tentive weakness as must convince them that you 
will tell it to twenty others, and consequently that 
they riiay reveal it without the risk of being dis- 
covered. But a secret properly communicated only 
to those who are to be concerned in the thing in 
question will probably be kept by them, though they 

j 1 James Shepherd, a coach-painter's apprentice, was exe- 
fcuted at Tyburn for high treason, March 17, 1718, in the 
reign of George the First. 



96 LETTERS OF LORD CHESTERFIELD 

should be a good many. Little secrets are com- 
monly told again, but great ones are generally kept. 
A^dieu ! 



XXVIII. 

AGAINST THE REFINEMENTS OF CASUISTRY. 

London, Sept. 27, o. s. 1748. 

Pray let no quibbles of lawyers, no refinements of 
casuists, break into the plain notions of right and 
wrong which every man's right reason and plain 
common- sense suggest to him. To do as you would 
be done by is the plain, sure, and undisputed rule 
of morality and justice. Stick to that ; and be con- 
vinced that whatever breaks into it in any degree, 
however speciously it may be turned, and however 
puzzling it may be to answer it, is notwithstanding 
false in itself, unjust, and criminal. I do not know 
a crime in the world which is not by the casuists 
among the Jesuits (especially the twenty-four col- 
lected, I think, by Escobar) allowed in some or 
many cases not to be criminal. The principles first 
laid down by them are often specious, the reasonings 
plausible, but the conclusion always a lie ; for it is 
contrary to that evident and undeniable rule of justice 
which I have mentioned above, of not doing to any 
one what you would not have him do to you. But, 
however, these refined pieces of casuistry and sophis- 
try being very convenient and welcome to people's 
passions and appetites, they gladly accept the indul- 



TO HIS SON. 97 

gence without desiring to detect the fallacy of the 
reasoning : and indeed many, I might say most peo- 
ple, are not able to do it, — which makes the publica- 
tion of such quibblings and refinements the more 
pernicious. I am no skilful casuist nor subtle dis- 
putant ; and yet I would undertake to justify and 
quaHfy the profession of a highwayman, step by step, 
and so plausibly as to make many ignorant people em- 
brace the profession as an innocent if not even a laud- 
able one, and to puzzle people of some degree of 
knowledge to answer me point by point. I have 
seen a book, entitled " Quidlibet ex Quolibet," or the 
art of making anything out of anything; which is 
not so difficult as it would seem, if once one quits 
certain plain truths, obvious in gross to every un- 
derstanding, in order to run after the ingenious 
refinements of warm imaginations and speculative 
reasonings. Doctor Berkeley, Bishop of Cloyne, a 
very worthy, ingenious, and learned man, has written 
a book to prove that there is no such thing as matter, 
and that nothing exists but in idea; that you and I 
only fancy ourselves eating, drinking, and sleeping, 
you at Leipsic, and I at London ; that we think we 
have flesh and blood, legs, arms, etc., but that we 
are only spirit. His arguments are strictly speaking 
unanswerable ; but yet I am so far from being con- 
vinced by them that I am determined to go on to 
eat and drink, and walk and ride, in order to keep 
that matter^ which I so mistakenly imagine my body 
at present to consist of, in as good plight as possi- 
ble. Common-sense (which in truth is very un- 
common) is the best sense I know of. Abide by it ; 
7 



98 LETTERS OF LORD CHESTERFIELD 

it will counsel you best. Read and hear for your 
amusement ingenious systems, nice questions sub- 
tilely agitated, with all the refinements that warm 
imaginations suggest ; but consider them only as ex- 
ercitations for the mind, and return always to settle 
with common-sense. 



XXIX. 

TRUE GOOD COMPANY DEFINED. 

October 12, O. S. 1 748. 

To keep good company, especially at your first 
setting out, is the way to receive good impressions. 
If you ask me what I mean by good company, I 
will confess to you that it is pretty difficult to 
define ; but I will endeavor to make you understand 
it as well as I can. 

Good company is not what respective sets of 
company are pleased either to call or think them- 
selves, but it is that company which all the people 
of the place call, and acknowledge to be, good com- 
pany, notwithstanding some objections which they 
may form to some of the individuals who compose 
it. It consists chiefly (but by no means without ex- 
ception) of people of considerable birth, rank, and 
character ; for people of neither birth nor rank are 
frequently and very justly admitted into it, if dis- 
tinguished by any peculiar merit, or eminency in 
any liberal art or science. Nay, so motley a thing 



TO HIS SON. 99 

is good company that many people without birth, 
rank, or merit intrude into it by their own forward- 
ness, and others slide into it by the protection of 
some considerable person \ and some even of indif- 
ferent characters and morals make part of it. But 
in the main, the good part preponderates, and people 
of infamous and blasted characters are never ad- 
mitted. In this fashionable good company, the best 
manners and the best language of the place are most 
unquestionably to be learnt ; for they estabUsh and 
give the tone to both, which are therefore called 
the language and manners of good company, there 
being no legal tribunal to ascertain either. 

A company consisting wholly of people of the 
first quality cannot for that reason be called good 
company, in the common acceptation of the phrase, 
unless they are into the bargain the fashionable 
and accredited company of the place; for people 
of the very first quality can be as silly, as ill bred, 
and as worthless as people of the meanest degree. 
On the other hand, a company consisting entirely 
of people of very low condition, whatever their 
merit or parts may be, can never be called good 
company; and consequently should not be much 
frequented, though by no means despised. 

A company wholly composed of men of learning, 
though greatly to be valued and respected, is not 
meant by the words " good company ; " they cannot 
have the easy manners and tournure of the world, 
as they do not live in it. If you can bear your part 
well in such a company, it is extremely right to be 
in it sometimes, and you will be but more esteemed 



ICX) LETTERS OF LORD CHESTERFIELD 

in other companies for having a place in that. But 
then do not let it engross you ; for if you do, you 
will be only considered as one of the literati by 
profession, which is not the way either to shine or 
rise in the world. 

The company of professed wits and poets is 
extremely inviting to most young men, who if they 
have wit themselves, are pleased with it, and if they 
have none, are sillily proud of being one of it ; but 
it should be frequented with moderation and judg- 
ment, and you should by no means give yourself up 
to it. A wit is a very unpopular denomination, as 
it carries terror along with it ; and people in general 
are as much afraid of a live wit in company as a 
woman is of a gun, which she thinks may go off of 
itself and do her a mischief. Their acquaintance 
is however worth seeking, and their company 
worth frequenting; but not exclusively of others, 
nor to such a degree as to be considered only as 
one of that particular set. 

But the company which of all others you should 
most carefully avoid is that low company which in 
every sense of the word is low indeed, — low in 
rank, low in parts, low in manners, and low in 
merit. You will perhaps be surprised that I should 
think it necessary to warn you against such com- 
pany, but yet I do not think it wholly unnecessary 
from the many instances which I have seen of men 
of sense and rank discredited, vilified, and undone 
by keeping such company. Vanity, that source of 
many of our follies and of some of our crimes, has 
sunk many a man into company in every light 



TO HIS SON. lOI 

infinitely below himself, for the sake of being the 
first man in it. There he dictates, is applauded, ad- 
mired ; and for the sake of being the Coryphceus of 
that wTetched chorus, disgraces and disqualifies him- 
self soon for any better company. Depend upon 
it, you wall sink or rise to the level of the company 
which you commonly keep ; people will judge of 
you, and not unreasonably, by that. There is good 
sense in the Spanish saying, "Tell me whom you 
live with, and I \\411 tell you who you are." Make 
it therefore your business, wherever you are, to get 
into that company which ever}^body in the place 
allows to be the best company next to their own ; 
which is the best definition that I can give you of 
good company. But here, too, one caution is very 
necessary, for want of which many young men 
have been ruined, even in good company. Good 
company (as I have before observed) is composed 
of a great variety of fashionable people, whose 
characters and morals are very different, though 
their manners are pretty much the same. When a 
young man, new in the world, first gets into that 
company, he very rightly determines to conform to 
and imitate it. But then he too often and fatally 
mistakes the objects of his imitation. He has often 
heard that absurd term of " genteel and fashionable 
vices." He there sees some people who shine and 
who in general are admired and esteemed, and 
observes that these people are . . . drunkards or 
gamesters, upon which he adopts their vices, mis- 
taking their defects for their perfections, and think- 
ing that they owe their fashion and their lustre to 



102 LETTERS OF LORD CHESTERFIELD 

those genteel vices. Whereas it is exactly the 
reverse ; for these people have acquired their repu- 
tation by their parts, their learning, their good 
breeding, and other accomplishments, and are 
only blemished and lowered, in the opinions of all 
reasonable people, and of their own in time, by 
these genteel and fashionable vices. 



XXX. 

CONDUCT IN GOOD COMPANY. -ON MIMICRY. 

Bath, Oct. 19, o. s. 1748. 

Dear Boy, — Having in my last pointed out what 
sort of company you should keep, I will now give 
you some rules for your conduct in it, — rules which 
my own experience and observation enable me to 
lay down and communicate to you with some degree 
of confidence. I have often given you hints of this 
kind before, but then it has been by snatches; I 
will now be more regular and methodical. I shall 
say nothing with regard to your bodily carriage 
and address, but leave them to the care of your 
dancing-master and to your own attention to the 
best models ; remember, however, that they are of 
consequence. 

Talk often, but never long ; in that case, if you do 
not please, at least you are sure not to tire your 
hearers. Pay your own reckoning, but do not treat 
the whole company, — this being one of the very 
few cases in which people do not care to be treated, 



TO HIS SON, 103 

every one being fully convinced that he has where- 
withal to pay. 

Tell stories very seldom, and absolutely never but 
where they are very apt and very short. Omit every 
circumstance that is not material, and beware of 
digressions. To have frequent recourse to narrative 
betrays great want of imagination. 

Never hold anybody by the button or the hand 
in order to be heard out ; for if people are not 
willing to hear you, you had much better hold your 
tongue than them. 

Most long talkers single out some one unfortunate 
man in company (commonly him whom they ob- 
serve to be the most silent, or their next neighbor) 
to whisper, or at least in a half voice to convey a 
continuity of words to. This is excessively ill bred, 
and in some degree a fraud, — conversation-stock 
being a joint and common property. But on the 
other hand, if one of these unmerciful talkers lays 
hold of you, hear him with patience, and at least 
seeming attention, if he is worth obliging, — for 
nothing will oblige him more than a patient hearing, 
as nothing would hurt him more than either to leave 
him in the midst of his discourse, or to discover 
your impatience under your affliction. 

Take, rather than give, the tone of the company 
you are in. If you have parts, you will show them 
more or less upon every subject ; and if you have 
not, you had better talk sillily upon a subject of other 
people's than of your own choosing. 

Avoid as much as you can, in mixed compan- 
ies, argumentative, polemical conversations, — which 



104 LETTERS OF LORD CHESTERFIELD 

though they should not, yet certainly do, indispose 
for a time the contending parties toward each other ; 
and if the controversy grows warm and noisy, en- 
deavor to put an end to it by some genteel levity 
or joke. I quieted such a conversation-hubbub once 
by representing to them that though I was persuaded 
none there present would repeat out of company 
what passed in it, yet I could not answer for the 
discretion of the passengers in the street, who must 
necessarily hear all that was said. 
I Above all things, and upon all occasions, avoid 
f speaking of yourself^ if it be possible. Such is the 
natural pride and vanity of our hearts that it per- 
petually breaks out, even in people of the best parts, 
. in all the various modes and figures of the egotism. 
Some abruptly speak advantageously of them- 
selves, without either pretence or provocation. They 
are impudent. Others proceed more artfully as 
they imagine, and forge accusations against them- 
selves, complain of calumnies which they never heard, 
in order to justify themselves by exhibiting a cata- 
logue of their many virtues. * They acknowledge it 
may indeed seem odd that they should talk in that 
manner of themselves ; it is what they do not like, 
and what they never would have done, — no, no tor- 
tures should ever have forced it from them, if they 
had not been thus unjustly and monstrously accused ! 
But in these cases justice is surely due to one's self 
as well as to others, and when our character is at- 
tacked, we may say in our own justification what 
otherwise we never would have said.' This thin veil 
of modesty drawn before vanity is much too tran- 



TO HIS SON. 105 

sparent to conceal it even from very moderate 
discernment. 

Others go more modestly and more slyly still (as 
they think) to work, but in my mind, still more 
ridiculously. They confess themselves (not without 
some degree of shame and confusion) into all the 
cardinal virtues by first degrading them into weak- 
nesses, and then owning their misfortune in being 
made up of those weaknesses. 'They cannot see 
people suffer without sympathizing with and endea- 
voring to help them. They cannot see people want 
without relieving them, though truly their own cir- 
cumstances cannot very well afford it. They cannot 
help speaking truth, though they know all the im- 
prudence of it. In short, they know that with all 
these weaknesses, they are not fit to live in the 
world, much less to thrive in it ; but they are now 
too old to change, and must rub on as well as they 
can.' This sounds too ridiculous and outre^ almost, 
for the stage ; and yet, take my word for it, you will 
frequently meet with it upon the common stage of 
the world. And here I will observe, by the by, that 
you will often meet with characters in Nature so 
extravagant, that a discreet poet would not venture 
to set them upon the stage in their true and high 
coloring. 

This principle of vanity and pride is so strong in 
human nature that it descends even to the lowest 
objects; and one often sees people angling for 
praise, where, admitting all they say to be true 
(which, by the way, it seldom is), no just praise is 
to be caught. One man affirms that he has rode 



I06 LETTERS OF LORD CHESTERFIELD 

post an hundred miles in six hours : probably it is 
a lie ; but supposing it to be true, what then ? Why 
he is a very good post-boy, that is all. Another 
asserts, and probably not without oaths, that he has 
drunk six or eight bottles of wine at a sitting ; out 
of charity, I will believe him a liar, for if I do not 
I must think him a beast. 

Such, and a thousand more, are the follies and 
extravagances which vanity draws people into, and 
which always defeat their own purpose; and as 
Waller says, upon another subject, — 

" Make the wretch the most despised 
Where most he wishes to be prized." 

^he only sure jwayjof ayoiding^ these evils is 
never to speak of yourself at all. But when, histori- 
cally, you are obliged to mention yourself, take care 
not to drop one single word that can directly or in- 
directly be construed as fishing for applause. Be 
your character what it will, it will be known; and 
nobody will take it upon your own word. Never 
imagine that anything you can say yourself will var- 
nish your defects or add lustre to your perfections ; 
but on the contrary it may, and nine times in ten 
will, make the former more glaring and the latter 
obscure. If you are silent upon your own subject, 
neither envy, indignation, nor ridicule will obstruct 
or allay the applause which you may really deserve ; 
but if you publish your own panegyric upon any 
occasion, or in any shape whatsoever, and however 
artfully dressed or disguised, they will all conspire 
against you, and you will be disappointed of the 
very end you aim at. 



TO HIS SON. 107 

Take care never to seem dark and mysterious, — - 
which is not only a very unamiable character but a 
very suspicious one too. If you seem mysterious 
with others, they will be really so with you, and you 
will know nothing. The height of abilities is to 
have volto sciolto and pensieri stretti ; that is, a 
frank, open, and ingenuous exterior with a prudent 
interior ; to be upon your own guard, and yet by 
a seeming natural openness to put people off theirs. 
Depend upon it, nine in ten of every company you 
are in will avail themselves of every indiscreet and 
unguarded expression of yours, if they can turn it to 
their own advantage. A prudent reserve is, there- 
fore, as necessary as a seeming openness is prudent. 
Always look people in the face when you speak to 
them; the not doing it is thought to imply con- 
scious guilt. Besides that, you lose the advantage 
of observing by their countenances what impression 
your discourse makes upon them. In order to 
know people's real sentiments, I trust much more 
to my eyes than to my ears ; for they can say what- 
ever they have a mind I should hear, but they can 
seldom help looking what they have no intention 
that I should know. 

Neither retail nor receive scandal willingly ; de- 
famation of others may for the present gratify the 
malignity of the pride of our hearts, cool reflection 
will draw very disadvantageous conclusions from 
such a disposition ; and in the case of scandal, as 
in that of robbery, the receiver is always thought as 
bad as the thief. 

Mimicry, which is the common and favorite amuse- 



I08 LETTERS OF LORD CHESTERFIELD 

ment of little, low minds, is in the utmost contempt 
with great ones. It is the lowest and most illiberal 
of all buffoonery. Pray, neither practise it yourself 
nor applaud it in others. Besides that, the person 
mimicked is insulted, and as I have often observed 
to you before, an insult is never forgiven. 

I need not, I believe, advise you to adapt your 
conversation to the people you are conversing with, 
— for I suppose you would not, without this caution, 
have talked upon the same subject, and in the same 
manner, to a minister of state, a bishop, a philoso- 
pher, a captain, and a woman. A man of the world 
must, like the chameleon, be able to take every dif- 
ferent hue, which is by no means a criminal or abject, 
but a necessary complaisance ; for it relates only to 
manners and not to morals. 

One word only as to swearing, and that, I hope 
and believe, is more than is necessary. You may 
sometimes hear some people in good company 
interlard their discourse with oaths, by way of em- 
bellishment, as they think; but you must observe 
too, that those who do so are never those who con- 
tribute in any degree to give that company the 
denomination of good company. They are always 
subalterns, or people of low education; for that 
practice, besides that it has no one temptation to 
plead, is as silly and as illiberal as it is wicked. 

Loud laughter is the mirth of the mob, who are 
only pleased with silly things ; for true wit or good 
sense never excited a laugh since the creation of the 
world. A man of parts and fashion is therefore only 
seen to smile, but never heard to laugh. 



TO HIS SON, 109 

But to conclude this long letter : all the above- 
mentioned rules, however carefully you may observe 
them, will lose half their effect if unaccompanied by 
the Graces. Whatever you say, if you say it with a 
supercilious, cynical face, or an embarrassed coun- 
tenance, or a silly, disconcerted grin, will be ill re- 
ceived. If, into the bargain, you mutter it, or utter 
it indistinctly and ungracefully, it will be still worse 
received. If your air and address are vulgar, awk- 
ward, and gauche, you may be esteemed indeed, if 
you have great intrinsic merit, but you will never 
please ; and without pleasing, you will rise but 
heavily. Venus among the ancients was synony- 
mous with the Graces, who were always supposed 
to accompany her; and Horace tells us that even 
youth, and Mercury, the God of arts and eloquence, 
would not do without her, — 

" Parum comis sine te Juventas Mercuriusque." 

They are not inexorable ladies, and may be had, 
if properly and diligently pursued. Adieu. 



XXXI. 

FURTHER RULES FOR CONDUCT IN GOOD COMPANY. 

Bath, October 29, o. s. 1748. 
Dear Boy, — My anxiety for your success in- 
creases in proportion as the time approaches of 
your taking your part upon the great stage of the 
world. ... I have long since done mentioning 
your great religious and moral duties, because I 



1 10 LETTERS OF LORD CHESTERFIELD 

could not make your understanding so bad a compli- 
ment as to suppose that you wanted or could re- 
ceive any new instructions upon these two important 
points. Mr. Harte, I am sure, has not neglected 
them ; besides, they are so obvious to common sense 
and reason that commentators may (as they often 
do) perplex, but cannot make them clearer. My 
province, therefore, is to supply by my experience 
your hitherto inevitable inexperience in the ways of 
the world. People at your age are in a state of nat- 
ural ebriety, and want rails and gardefous wherever 
they go, to hinder them from breaking their necks. 
This drunkenness of youth is not only tolerated, but 
even pleases, if kept within certain bounds of dis- 
cretion and decency. These bounds are the point 
which it is difficult for the drunken man himself to 
find out, and there it is that the experience of a 
friend may not only serve but save him. 

Carry with you, and welcome, into company all 
the gayety and spirits, but as little of the giddiness, of 
youth as you can. The former will charm ; but the 
latter will often, though innocently, implacably of- 
fend. Inform yourself of the characters and situa- 
tions of the company before you give way to what 
your imagination may prompt you to say. There are 
in all companies more wrong heads than right ones, 
and many more who deserve than who hke censure. 
Should you therefore expatiate in the praise of some 
virtue which some in company notoriously want, 
or declaim against any vice which others are notor- 
iously infected with, your reflections, however gen- 
eral and unapplied, will by being applicable be 



TO HIS SON. 1 1 1 

thought personal, and levelled at those people. 
This consideration points out to you sufficiently not 
to be suspicious and captious yourself, nor to sup- 
pose that things, because they may be, are therefore 
meant at you. The manners of well-bred people 
secure one from those indirect and mean attacks; 
but if by chance a flippant woman, or a pert cox- 
comb, lets off anything of that kind, it is much 
better not to seem to understand than to reply 
to it. 
/ Cautiously avoid talking of either your own or 
other people's domestic affairs. Yours are nothing 
I to them but tedious ; theirs are nothing to you. The 
\ subject is a tender one, and it is odds but that 
I you touch somebody or other's sore place \ for in 
I this case there is no trusting to specious appear- 
;ances, which may be, and often are, so contrary to the 
jreal situations of things between men and their 
wives, parents and their children, seeming friends, 
etc., that with the best intentions in the world one 
often blunders disagreeably. 

Remember that the wit, humor, and jokes of 
most mixed companies are local. They thrive in 
that particular soil, but will not often bear 
transplanting. Every company is differently cir- 
cumstanced, has its particular cant and jargon, 
which may give occasion to wit and mirth within 
that circle, but would seem flat and insipid in any 
other, and therefore will not bear repeating. Nothing 
makes a man look sillier than a pleasantry not rel- 
ished or not understood; and if he meets with a 
profound silence when he expected a general ap- 



112 LETTERS OF LORD CHESTERFIELD 

plause, or, what is worse, if he is desired to explain 
the bon mot, his awkward and embarrassed situation 
is easier imagined than described. A propos of re- 
peating, take great care never to repeat (I do not 
mean here the pleasantries) in one company what 
you hear in another. Things seemingly indifferent 
may by circulation have much graver consequences 
than you would imagine. Besides there is a gene- 
ral tacit trust in conversation by which a man is 
obHged not to report anything out of it, though he 
is not immediately enjoined secrecy. A retailer of 
this kind is sure to draw himself into a thousand 
scrapes and discussions, and to be shyly and uncom- 
fortably received wherever he goes. 

You will find in most good company some people 
who only keep their place there by a contemptible 
title enough ; these are what we call " very good- 
natured fellows," and the French, bons diabks. The 
truth is, they are people without any parts or fancy, 
and who, having no will of their own, readily assent 
to, concur in, and applaud whatever is said or done 
in the company ; and adopt with the same alacrity 
the most virtuous or the most criminal, the wisest 
or the silliest, scheme that happens to be enter- 
tained by the majority of the company. This 
foolish and often criminal complaisance flows from 
a foolish cause, — the want of any other merit. I 
hope that you will hold your place in company 
by a nobler tenure, and that you will hold it (you can 
bear a quibble, I believe, yet in capite. Have a 
will and an opinion of your own, and adhere to 
them steadily; but then do it with good humor, 



TO HIS SON, 113 

good breeding, and (if you have it) with urbanity ; 
for you have not yet beard enough either to preach 
or censure. 

All other kinds of complaisance are not only 
blameless but necessary in good company. Not to 
seem to perceive the little weaknesses and the idle 
but imiocent affectations of the company, but even to 
flatter them in a certain manner is not only very 
allowable, but m truth a sort of polite duty. They 
will be pleased with you if you do, and will cer- 
tainly not be reformed by you if you do not. For 
instance ; you will find in every groupe of company 
two principal figures, — namely, the fine lady and the 
fine gentleman, who absolutely give the law of wit, 
language, fashion, and taste to the rest of that 
society. There is always a strict and often for the 
time being a tender alliance between these two 
figures. The lady looks upon her empire as 
founded upon the divine right of beauty (and full as 
good a divine right it is as any king, emperor, or 
pope can pretend to) \ she requires, and commonly 
meets with, unlimited passive obedience. And why 
should she not meet with it? Her demands go no 
higher than to have her unquestioned pre-eminence 
in beauty, wit, and fashion firmly established. Few 
sovereigns (by the way) are so reasonable. The 
fine gentleman's claims of right are, mutatis 
mutandis, the same ; and though indeed he is not 
always a wit de jure, yet as he is the wit de facto 
of that company, he is entitled to a share of your 
allegiance ; and everybody expects at least as much 
as they are cntided to, if not something more. 
8 



114 LETTERS OF LORD CHESTERFIELD 

Prudence bids you make your court to these joint 
sovereigns, and no duty that I know of forbids it. 
Rebellion here is exceedingly dangerous, and in- 
evitably punished by banishment and immediate 
forfeiture of all your wit, manners, taste, and 
fashion; as, on the other hand, a cheerful submis- 
sion, not without some flattery, is sure to procure 
you a strong recommendation and most effectual 
pass throughout all their and probably the neighbor- 
ing dominions. With a moderate share of sagacity, 
you will, before you have been half an hour in their 
company, easily discover those two principal 
figures, both by the deference which you will 
observe the whole company pay them, and by that 
easy, careless, and serene air which their conscious- 
ness of power gives them. As in this case, so in all 
others, aim always at the highest ; get always into the 
highest company, and address yourself particularly to 
the highest in it. The search after the unattainable 
philosopher's stone has occasioned a thousand useful 
discoveries which otherwise would never have been 
made. 

What the French justly call les manieres nobles 
are only to be acquired in the very best companies. 
They are the distinguishing characteristics of men 
of fashion; people of low education never wear 
them so close but that some part or other of the 
original vulgarism appears. Les manieres nobles 
equally forbid insolent contempt or low envy and 
jealousy. Low people in good circumstances, fine 
clothes, and equipages will insolently show con- 
tempt for all those who cannot afford as fine 



TO HIS SON. 115 

clothes, as good an equipage, and who have 
not (as their term is) as much money in their 
pockets \ on the other hand, they are gnawed with 
envy, and cannot help discovering it, of those who 
surpass them in any of these articles, which are 
far from being sure criterions of merit. They are 
likewise jealous of being slighted, and consequently 
suspicious and captious ; they are eager and hot 
about trifles because trifles were at first their af- 
fairs of consequence. Les manieres nobles imply 
exactly the reverse of all this. Study them early; 
you cannot make them too habitual and familiar 
to you. 



XXXII. 

IMPORTANCE OF THE GRACES ILLUSTRATED IN A 
DESIGN OF CARLO MARATTL— THE DUKE OF MARL- 
BOROUGH. 

London, Nov. 18, o. s. 1748. 
Dear Boy,- — Whatever I see, or whatever I 
hear, my first consideration is whether it can in 
any way be useful to you. As a proof of this, I 
went accidentally the other day into a print-shop, 
where, among many others, I found one print from 
a famous design of Carlo Maratti,i who died about 
thirty years ago and was the last eminent painter 
in Europe. The subject is il Studio del Disegno^ or 
the School of Drawing. An old man, supposed to 
be the master, points to his scholars, who ar^ 

1 The date of his death is Dec 15, 17 13. 



Il6 LETTERS OF LORD CHESTERFIELD 

variously employed in perspective, geometry, and 
the observation of the statues of antiquity. With 
regard to perspective, of which there are some 
little specimens, he has wrote tanto che basti, that 
is, as much as is sufficient ; with regard to geom- 
etry, tanfo che basti again ; with regard to the con- 
templation of the ancient statues there is written, 
noil mat a bastanzdy — there never can be enough. 
But in the clouds at the top of the piece are 
represented the three Graces, with this just sen- 
tence written over them : senza di not ogni fatica e 
vanay — that is, without us all labor is vain. This 
everybody allows to be true in painting; but all 
people do not seem to consider, as I hope you 
will, that this truth is full as applicable to every 
other art or science, — indeed to everything that is 
to be said or done. I will send you the print itself 
by Mr. EHot when he returns ; and I will advise 
you to make the same use of it that the Roman 
Catholics say they do of the pictures and images of 
their Saints, — which is only to remind them of 
those, for the adoration they disclaim. Nay, I will 
go further ; as the transition from popery to pagan- 
ism is short and easy, I will classically and poetically 
advise you to invoke and sacrifice to them every 
day and all the day. It must be owned that the 
Graces do not seem to be natives of Great Britain, 
and I doubt the best of us here have more of the 
rough than the polished diamond. Since barbarism 
drove them out of Greece and Rome, they seem to 
have taken refuge in France, where their temples 
are numerous and their worship the estabUshed one. 



TO HIS SON. 117 

Examine yourself seriously why such and such 
people please and engage you more than such and 
such others of equal merit, and you will always find 
that it is because the former have the Graces and 
the latter not. I have known many a woman with 
an exact shape and a symmetrical assemblage of 
beautiful features please nobody; while others 
with very moderate shapes and features have 
charmed everybody. Why? Because Venus will 
not charm so much without her attendant Graces 
as they will without her. Among men, how often 
have I seen the most solid merit and knowledge 
neglected, unwelcome, or even rejected for want of 
them; while flimsy parts, little knowledge, and 
less merit introduced by the Graces have been 
received, cherished, and admired ! Even virtue, 
which is moral beauty, wants some of its charms if 
unaccompanied by them. 

If you ask me how you shall acquire what neither 
you nor I can define or ascertain, I can only 
answer — by observation. Form yourself with 
regard to others upon what you feel pleases you in 
them. I can tell you the importance, the advan- 
tage, of having the Graces ; but I cannot give 
them you. I heartily wish I could, and I certainly 
would ; for I do not know a better present that I 
could make you. To show you that a very wise, 
philosophical, and retired man thinks upon that 
subject as I do, who have always lived in the world, 
I send you by Mr. EHot the famous Mr. Locke's 
book upon education, in which you will find the 
stress that he lays upon the Graces, which he calls 



Il8 LETTERS OF LORD CHESTERFIELD 

(and very truly) good breeding. I have marked 
all the parts of that book that are worth your atten- 
tion, for as he begins with the child almost from its 
birth the parts relative to its infancy would be 
useless to you. Germany is still less than England 
the seat of the Graces ; however, you had as good 
not say so while you are there. But the place 
which you are going to in a great degree is ; for I 
have known as many well-bred, pretty men come 
from Turin as from any part of Europe. The late 
King Victor Amed^e took great pains to form such 
of his subjects as were of any consideration both to 
business and manners. The present king, I am 
told, follows his example : this however is certain, 
that in all courts and congresses where there are 
various foreign ministers, those of the King of 
Sardinia are generally the ablest, the politest, and 
les plus d^lih. You will therefore at Turin have 
very good models to form yourself upon; and 
remember that with regard to the best models, 
as well as to the antique Greek statues in the print, 
non mat a bastanza. Observe every word, look, 
and motion of those who are allowed to be the 
most accompHshed persons there, Observe their 
natural and careless but genteel air, their unem- 
barrassed good breeding, their unassuming but yet 
unprostituted dignity. Mind their decent mirth, 
their discreet frankness, and that entregent which, 
as much above the frivolous as below the important 
and the secret, is the proper medium for conversa- 
tion in mixed companies. I will observe, by the 
by, that the talent of that light entregent is often of 



TO HIS SON. 1 19 

great use to a foreign minister, — not only as it helps 
him to domesticate himself in many families, but 
also as it enables him to put by and parry some 
subjects of conversation, which might possibly lay 
him under difficulties both what to say and how to 
look. 

Of all the men that ever I knew in my life (and 
I knew him extremely well) the late Duke of Marl- 
borough possessed the Graces in the highest degree, 
not to say engrossed them ; and indeed he got the 
most by them ; for I will venture (contrary to the 
custom of profound historians, who always assign 
deep causes for great events) to ascribe the better 
half of the Duke of Marlborough's greatness and 
riches to those graces. He was eminently illiterate, 
wrote bad English and spelled it still worse ; he had 
no share of what is commonly called parts, that is, 
he had no brightness, nothing shining in his genius. 
He had most undoubtedly an excellent good plain 
understanding with sound judgment. But these 
alone would probably have raised him but some- 
thing higher than they found him, which was page 
to King James the Second's Queen. There the 
Graces protected and promoted him ; for while he 
was an Ensign of the Guards the Duchess of Cleve- 
land, then favorite mistress to King Charles the 
Second, struck by those very graces, gave him five 
thousand pounds, with which he immediately bought 
an annuity for his life of five hundred pounds a year 
of my grandfather Halifax, which was the foundation 
of his subsequent fortune. His figure was beautiful, 
but his manner was irresistible by either man or 



120 LETTERS OF LORD CHESTERFIELD 

woman. It was by this engaging, graceful manner 
that he was enabled during all his war to connect 
the various and jarring powers of the Grand Alliance, 
and to carry them on to the main object of the war, 
notwithstanding their private and separate views, jeal- 
ousies, and wrongheadednesses. Whatever Court he 
went to (and he was often obliged to go himself to 
some resty and refractory ones), he as constantly 
prevailed, and brought them into his measures. The 
Pensionary Heinsius, a venerable old minister grown 
gray in business and who had governed the republic of 
the United Provinces for more than forty years, was 
absolutely governed by the Duke of Marlborough, 
as that republic feels to this day. He was always 
cool, and nobody ever observed the least variation 
in his countenance ; he could refuse more grace- 
fully than other people could grant ; and those who 
went away from him the most dissatisfied as to the 
substance of their business were yet personally 
charmed with him and in some degree comforted 
by his manner. With all his gentleness and grace- 
fulness no man living was more conscious of his 
situation nor maintained his dignity better. 



XXXIII. 

THE IMPORTANCE OF DRESS. 

London, Dec. 30, o. s. 1748. 
Dear Boy, — I direct this letter to Berlin, where 
I suppose it will either find you or at least wait but a 
very little time fpr you. I cannot help being anxious 



TO HIS SON, 121 

for your success at this your first appearance upon 
the great stage of the world ; for though the specta- 
tors are always candid enough to give great allow- 
ances and to show great indulgence to a new actor, 
yet from the first impressions which he makes upon 
them they are apt to decide, in their own minds at 
least whether he will ever be a good one or not. If 
he seems to understand what he says, by speaking 
it properly ; if he is attentive to his part, instead of 
staring negligently about ; and if, upon the whole, he 
seems ambitious to please, they willingly pass over 
little awkwardnesses and inaccuracies, which they 
ascribe to a commendable modesty in a young and 
inexperienced actor. They pronounce that he will 
be a good one in time ; and by the encouragement 
which they give him, make him so the sooner. This 
I hope will be your case. You have sense enough to 
understand your part ; a constant attention and am- 
bition to excel in it, with a careful observation of 
the best actors, will inevitably qualify you, if not for 
the first, at least for considerable parts. 

Your dress (as insignificant a thing as dress is in 
itself) is now become an object worthy of some 
attention; for I confess I cannot help forming 
some opinion of a man's sense and character from 
his dress, and I believe most people do as well as 
myself. Any affectation whatsoever in dress implies, 
in my mind, a flaw in the understanding. Most of 
our young fellows here display some character or 
other by their dress ; some affect the tremendous, 
and wear a great and fiercely cocked hat, an 
enormous sword, a short waistcoat, and a black 



122 LETTERS OF LORD CHESTERFIELD 

cravat ; these I should be almost tempted to swear 
the peace against, in my own defence, if I were not 
convinced that they are but meek asses in lions' 
skins. Others go in brown frocks, leather breeches, 
great oaken cudgels in their hands, their hats 
uncocked, and their hair unpowdered; and imitate 
grooms, stage-coachmen, and country bumpkins 
so well in their outsides, that I do not make the 
least doubt of their resembling them equally in 
their insides. A man of sense carefully avoids any 
particular character in his dress ; he is accurately 
clean for his own sake, but all the rest is for other 
people's. He dresses as well, and in the same 
manner, as the people of sense and fashion of the 
place where he is. If he dresses better as he 
thinks, that is, more than they, he is a fop ; if he 
dresses worse, he is unpardonably negligent : but 
of the two, I would rather have a young fellow too 
much than too little dressed; the excess on that 
side will wear off with a little age and reflection ; 
but if he is negligent at twenty, he will be a sloven 
at forty. Dress yourself fine where others are fine, 
and plain where others are plain ; but take care 
always that your clothes are well made and fit you, 
for otherwise they will give you a very awkward air. 
When you are once well dressed for the day think 
no more of it afterwards ; and without any stiffness 
for fear of discomposing that dress, let all your mo- 
tions be as easy and natural as if you had no clothes 
on at all. So much for dress, which I maintain to 
be a thing of consequence in the polite world. 



TO HIS SON. 123 



XXXIV. 

ON PREJUDICES. -LIBERTY OF THE PRESS. 

London, Feb. 7, o. s. 1749. 
Dear Boy, — You are now come to an age capa- 
ble of reflection, and I hope you will do, what 
however few people at your age do, exert it for 
your own sake in the search of truth and sound 
knowledge. I will confess (for I am not unwilling 
to discover my secrets to you) that it is not many 
years since I have presumed to reflect for myself. 
Till sixteen or seventeen I had no reflection, and 
for many years after that, I made no use of what I 
had. I adopted the notions of the books I read, 
or the company I kept, without examming whether 
they were just or not ; and I rather chose to run 
the risk of easy error than to take the time and 
trouble of investigating truth. Thus, partly from 
laziness, partly from dissipation, and partly from the 
mauvaise honte of rejecting fashionable notions, I 
was (as I have since found) hurried away by preju- 
dices instead of being guided by reason, and 
quietly cherished error instead of seeking for truth. 
But since I have taken the trouble of reasoning for 
myself and have had the courage to own that I do 
so, you cannot imagine how much my notions of 
things are altered, and in how different a light I 
now see them from that in which I formerly viewed 
them through the deceitful medium of prejudice or 
authority. Nay, I may possibly still retain many 



124 LETTERS OF LORD CHESTERFIELD 

errors, which from long habit have perhaps growp 
into real opinions ; for it is very difficult to distin- 
guish habits, early acquired and long entertained^ 
from the result of our reason and reflection. 

My first prejudice (for I do not mention the 
prejudices of boys and women, such as hobgoblins, 
ghosts, dreams, spilling salt, etc.) was my classical 
enthusiasm, which I received from the books I 
read and the masters who explained them to me. 
I was convinced there had been no common-sense 
nor common honesty in the world for these last 
fifteen hundred years, but that they were totally 
extinguished with the ancient Greek and Roman 
governments. Homer and Virgil could have no 
faults, because they were ancient; Milton and 
Tasso could have no merit, because they were 
modem. And I could almost have said with re- 
gard to the ancients what Cicero very absurdly and 
unbecomingly for a philosopher says with regard to 
Plato, Cum quo errare tnal'wi quam cum aliis recte 
sentire. Whereas now, without any extraordinary 
effort of genius, I have discovered that nature was 
the same three thousand years ago as it is at 
present; that men were but men then as well as 
now ; that modes and customs vary often, but that 
human nature is always the same. And I can no 
more suppose that men were better, braver, or 
wiser fifteen hundred or three thousand years ago 
than I can suppose that the animals or vegetables 
were better then than they are now. I dare assert 
too in defiance of the favorers of the ancients that 
Homer's hero, Achilles, was both a brute and a 



TO HIS SON. 125 

scoundrel, and consequently an improper character 
for the hero of an epic poem : he had so little 
regard for his country that he would not act in 
defence of it because he had quarrelled with Aga- 
memnon about a strumpet ; and then afterwards, 
animated by private resentment only, he went about 
killing people basely, I will call it, because he knew 
himself invulnerable ; and yet invulnerable as he 
was he wore the strongest armor in the world, — 
which I humbly apprehend to be a blunder, for a 
horse-shoe clapped to his vulnerable heel would 
have been sufficient. On the other hand, with sub- 
mission to the favorers of the modems, I assert 
with Mr. Dryden that the Devil is in truth the hero 
of Milton's poem, — his plan, which he lays, pursues, 
and at last executes, being the subject of the poem. 
From all which considerations I impartially con- 
clude that the ancients had their excellences and 
their defects, their virtues and their vices, just like 
the moderns; pedantry and affectation of learning 
decide clearly in favor of the former; vanity and 
ignorance as peremptorily in favor of the latter. 
Religious prejudices kept pace with my classical 
ones, and there was a time when I thought it im- 
possible for the honestest man in the world to be 
saved out of the pale of the Church of England,* — 
not considering that matters of opinion do not 
depend upon the will, and that it is as natural and 
as allowable that another man should differ in 

1 In 1 716 Chesterfield actively opposed the repeal of an 
outrageous disabling Act passed by the Tories in Queen 
Anne s reign against dissenters. 



126 LETTERS OF LORD CHESTERFIELD 

opinion from me as that I should differ from him ; 
and that if we are both sincere, we are both blame- 
less, and should consequently have mutual indul- 
gence for each other. 

The next prejudices that I adopted were those of 
the beau monde^ in which, as I was determined to 
snine, I took what are commonly called the genteel 
vices to be necessary. I had heard them reckoned 
so, and without further inquiry I believed it, or at 
least should have been ashamed to have denied it 
for fear of exposing myself to the ridicule of those 
whom I considered as the models of fine gentlemen. 
But I am now neither ashamed nor afraid to assert 
that those genteel vices, as they are falsely called, 
are only so many blemishes in the character of even 
a man of the world and what is called a fine gentle- 
man, and degrade him in the opinions of those very 
people to whom he hopes to recommend himself by 
them. Nay, this prejudice often extends so far that 
I have known people pretend to vices they had not, 
instead of carefully concealing those they had. 

Use and assert your own reason ; reflect, examine, 
and analyze everything, in order to form a sound 
and mature judgment ; let no oiitos €<^a impose upon 
your understanding, mislead your actions, or dictate 
your conversation. Be early what if you are not, 
you will when too late wish you had been. Con- 
sult your reason betimes ; I do not say that it will 
always prove an unerring guide, for human reason is 
not infallible, but it will prove the least erring guide 
that you can follow. Books and conversation may 
assist it, but adopt neither blindly and implicitly; 



TO HIS SON. 127 

try both by that best rule which God has given to 
direct us, — reason. Of all the troubles, do not de- 
cline, as many people do, that of thinking. The 
herd of mankind can hardly be said to think ; their 
notions are almost all adoptive; and in general I 
believe it is better that it should be so, as such 
common prejudices contribute more to order and 
quiet than their own separate reasonings would do, 
uncultivated and unimproved as they are. We have 
many of those useful prejudices in this country 
which I should be very sorry to see removed. The 
good Protestant conviction that the Pope is both 
Antichrist and the W — of Babylon, is a more effec- 
tual preservative in this country against popery 
than all the solid and unanswerable arguments of 
Chillingworth. 

The idle story of the Pretender's having been in- 
troduced in a warming-pan into the Queen's bed, 
though as destitute of all probability as of all foun- 
dation, has been much more prejudicial to the cause 
of Jacobitism than all that Mr. Locke and others 
have written to show the unreasonableness and ab- 
surdity of the doctrines of indefeasible hereditary 
right and unUmited passive obedience. And that 
silly, sanguine notion which is firmly entertained 
here, that one Englishman can beat three French- 
men, encourages, and has sometimes enabled one 
Englishman in reality to beat two. 

A Frenchman ventures his life with alacrity pour 
Vhonneur du Rot ; were you to change the object 
which he has been taught to have in view, and tell 
him that it was pour le bien de la patrie^ he would 



128 LETTERS OF LORD CHESTERFIELD 

very probably run away. Such gross local preju- 
dices prevail with the herd of mankind, and do not 
impose upon cultivated, informed, and reflecting 
minds j but then there are notions equally false, 
though not so glaringly absurd, which are enter- 
tained by people of superior and improved under- 
standings merely for want of the necessary pains to 
investigate, the proper attention to examine, and 
the penetration requisite to determine the truth. 
Those are the prejudices which I would have you 
guard against by a manly exertion and attention of 
your reasoning faculty. To mention one instance 
of a thousand that I could give you, — it is a general 
prejudice, and has been propagated for these six- 
teen hundred years, that arts and sciences cannot 
flourish under an absolute government, and that 
genius must necessarily be cramped where freedom 
is restrained. This sounds plausible, but is false in 
fact. Mechanic arts, as agriculture, etc., will indeed 
be discouraged, where the profits and property are 
from the nature of the government insecure ; but 
why the despotism of a government should cramp 
the genius of a mathematician, an astronomer, a 
poet, or an orator, I confess I never could discover. 
It may indeed deprive the poet or the orator of 
the liberty of treating of certain subjects in the man- 
ner they would wish ; but it leaves them subjects 
enough to exert genius upon if they have it. 

Can an author with reason complain that he is 
cramped and shackled if he is not at liberty to 
publish blasphemy, bawdry, or sedition ? — all which 
are equally prohibited in the freest governments, if 



TO HIS SON, 129 

they are wise and well-regulated ones. This is the 
present general complaint of the French authors, 
but indeed chiefly of the bad ones. No wonder, 
say they, that England produces so many great 
geniuses ; people there may think as they please, 
and publish what they think. Very true ; but who 
hinders them from thinking as they please ? If in- 
deed they think in a manner destructive of all 
religion, morality, or good manners, or to the dis- 
turbance of the State, an absolute government will 
certainly more effectually prohibit them from or 
punish them for publishing such thoughts than a 
free one could do. But how does that cramp the 
genius of an epic, dramatic, or lyric poet? Or how 
does it corrupt the eloquence of an orator, in the 
pulpit or at the bar? 



XXXV. 

DIGNITY OF MANNERS RECOMMENDED: IN WHAT 
IT CONSISTS. 

London, Aug. 10, o. s. 1749. 

There 5s a certain dignity of manners absolutely 
necessary to make even the most valuable character 
either respected or respectable. 

Horse-play, romping, frequent and loud fits of 
laughter, jokes, waggery, and indiscriminate famili- 
arity will sink both merit and knowledge into a de- 
gree of contempt. They compose at most a merry 
9 



130 LETTERS OF LORD CHESTERFIELD 

fellow, and a merry fellow was never yet a respect- 
able man. Indiscriminate familiarity either offends 
your superiors, or else dubs you their dependant and 
led captain. It gives your inferiors just but trou- 
blesome and improper claims of equality. A joker 
is near akin to a buffoon, and neither of them is the 
least related to wit. Whoever is either admitted 
or sought for in company upon any other account 
than that of his merit and manners, is never re- 
spected there but only made use of. We will have 
such-a-one, for he sings prettily ; we will invite such- 
a-one to a ball, for he dances well ; we will have 
such-a-one at supper, for he is always joking and 
laughing ; we will ask another because he plays deep 
at all games, or because he can drink a great deal. 
These are all vilifying distinctions, mortifying pref- 
erences, and exclude all ideas of esteem and regard. 
Whoever is had (as it is called) in company for the 
sake of any one thing singly, is singly that thing, and 
will never be considered in any other light ; conse- 
quently never respected, let his merits be what they 
will. 

This dignity of manners which I recommend so 
much to you is not only as different from pride as 
true courage is from blustering, or true wit from jok- 
ing, but is absolutely inconsistent with it ; for noth- 
ing vilifies and degrades more than pride. The pre- 
tensions of the proud man are oftener treated with 
sneer and contempt than with indignation ; as we offer 
ridiculously too little to a tradesman who asks ridicu- 
lously too much for his goods, but we do not haggle 
with one who only asks a just and reasonable price. 



TO HIS SON. 131 

Abject flattery and indiscriminate assentation de- 
grade as much as indiscriminate contradiction and 
noisy debate disgust. But a modest assertion of 
one's own opinion and a complaisant acquiescence 
in other people's preserve dignity. 

Vulgar, low expressions, awkward motions and 
address, vilify ; as they imply either a very low turn 
of mind or low education and low company. 

Frivolous curiosity about trifles and laborious at- 
tention to little objects, which neither require nor 
deserve a moment's thought, lower a man ; who from 
thence is thought (and not unjustly) incapable of 
greater matters. Cardinal de Retz very sagaciously 
marked out Cardinal Chigi for a little mind from 
the moment that he told him he had wrote three 
years with the same pen, and that it was an excel- 
lent good one still. 



XXXVI. 

COURT MANNERS AND METHODS. 

Aug, 21, O. S. 1749. 

You will soon be at Courts, where though you will 
not be concerned, yet reflection and observation 
upon what you see and hear there may be of use to 
you when hereafter you may come to be concerned 
in courts yourself. Nothing in courts is exactly as it 
appears to be, — often very different, sometimes di- 
rectly contrary. Interest, which is the real spring 



132 LETTERS OF LORD CHESTERFIELD 

of everything there, equally creates and dissolves 
friendship, produces and reconciles enmities ; or 
rather, allows of neither real friendships nor enmi- 
ties ; for as Dryden very justly observes, " Politicians 
neither love nor hate." This is so true that you may 
think you connect yourself with two friends to-day 
and be obliged to-morrow to make your option be- 
tween them as enemies. Observe therefore such a 
degree of reserve with your friends as not to put 
yourself in their power if they should become your 
enemies, and such a degree of moderation with 
your enemies as not to make it impossible for them 
to become your friends. 

Courts are unquestionably the seats of politeness 
and good breeding ; were they not so, they would 
be the seats of slaughter and desolation. Those who 
now smile upon and embrace, would affront and stab 
each other, if manners did not interpose \ but ambi- 
tion and avarice, the two prevailing passions at courts, 
found dissimulation more effectual than violence ; 
and dissimulation introduced that habit of polite- 
ness which distinguishes the courtier from the coun- 
try gentleman. In the former case the strongest 
body would prevail; in the latter, the strongest 
mind. 

A man of parts and efificiency need not flatter every- 
body at court, but he must take great care to offend 
nobody personally, it being in the power of very 
many to hurt him who cannot serve him. Homer 
supposes a chain let down from Jupiter to the earth 
to connect him with mortals. There is at all courts 
a chain which connects the prince or the minister 



TO HIS SON. 133 

with the page of the backstairs or the chamber- 
maid. The king's wife, or mistress, has an influence 
over him ; a lover has an influence over her ; the 
chambermaid or the valet de chambre has an in- 
fluence over both ; and so ad infinitum. You must 
therefore not break a link of that chain by which 
you hope to climb up to the prince. 



XXXVII. 

ON AWKWARDNESS AND ABSENCE OF MIND. -DRESS. 

London, Sept. 22, o. s. 1749. 
Dear Boy, — If I had faith in philters and love 
potions I should suspect that you had given Sir 
Charles Williams some by the manner in which he 
speaks of you, not only to me but to everybody 
else. I will not repeat to you what he says of the 
extent and correctness of your knowledge, as it 
might either make you vain or persuade you that 
you had already enough of what nobody can have 
too much. You will easily imagine how many 
questions I asked, and how narrowly I sifted 
him upon your subject ; he answered me, and I 
dare say with truth, just as I could have wished, 
till, satisfied entirely with his accounts of your 
character and learning, I inquired into other matters 
intrinsically indeed of less consequence but still 
of great consequence to every man, and of more 
to you than to almost any man, — I mean your 
address, manners, and air. To these questions 



134 LETTERS OF LORD CHESTERFLELD 

the same truth which he had observed before 
obliged him to give me much less satisfactory an- 
swers. And as he thought himself in friendship 
both to you and me obliged to tell me the disa- 
greeable as well as the agreeable truths, upon the 
same principle I think myself obliged to repeat 
them to you. 

He told me then that in company you were 
frequently most provokingly inattentive, absent, and 
distrait; that you came into a room and presented 
yourself very awkwardly; that at table you con- 
stantly threw down knives, forks, napkins, bread, 
etc., and that you neglected your person and dress 
to a degree unpardonable at any age, and much 
more so at yours. 

These things, howsoever immaterial they may 
seem to people who do not know the world and 
the nature of mankind, give me, who know them to 
be exceedingly material, very great concern. I 
have long distrusted you and therefore frequently 
admonished you upon these articles ; and I tell you 
plainly that I shall not be easy till I hear a very 
different account of them. I know no one thing 
more offensive to a company than that inattention 
and distraction. It is showing them the utmost 
contempt, and people never forgive contempt. No 
man is distrait with the man he fears or the woman 
he loves ; which is a proof that every man can get 
the better of that distraction when he thinks it 
worth his while to do so, and take my word for it 
it is always worth his while. For my own part I 
would rather be in company with a dead man than 



TO HIS SON. 135 

with an absent one ; for if the dead man gives me 
no pleasure, at least he^ shows me no contempt ; 
whereas the absent man, silently indeed but very 
plainly, tells me that he does not think me worth 
his attention. Besides, can an absent man make 
any observations upon the characters, customs, and 
manners of the company ? No. He may be in the 
best companies all his lifetime (if they will admit 
him which if I were they I would not) and never 
be one jot the wiser. I never will converse with 
an absent man ; one may as well talk to a deaf one. 
It is in truth a practical blunder to address our- 
selves to a man who we see plainly neither hears, 
minds, nor understands us. Moreover, I aver that 
no man is in any degree fit for either business or 
conversation who cannot and does not direct and 
command his attention to the present object, be 
that what it will. You know by experience that I 
grudge no expense in your education, but I will 
positively not keep you a flapper. You may read 
in Dr. Swift the description of these flappers and 
the use they were of to your friends the Laputans, 
whose minds (Gulliver says) are so taken up with 
intense speculations that they neither can speak nor 
attend to the discourses of others without being 
roused by some external taction upon the organs of 
speech and hearing ; for which reason those people 
who are able to aflbrd it always keep a flapper in 
their family as one of their domestics, nor ever 
walk about or make visits without him. This flapper 
is likewise employed diligently to attend his master 
in his walks, and upon occasion to give a soft flap 



136 LETTERS OF LORD CHESTERFIELD 

upon his eyes, because he is always so wrapped up 
in cogitation that he is in manifest danger of faUing 
down every precipice and bouncing his head 
against every post, and in the streets of jostUng 
others or being jostled into the kennel himself. If 
Christian will undertake this province into the bar- 
gain, with all my heart ; but I will not allow him 
any increase of wages upon that score. In short, 
I give you fair warning that when we meet, if you 
are absent in mind I will soon be absent in body, 
for it will be impossible for me to stay in the room ; 
and if at table you throw down your knife, plate, 
bread, etc., and hack the wing of a chicken for 
half an hour without being able to cut it off, and 
your sleeve all the time in another dish, I must rise 
from table to escape the fever you would certainly 
give me. Good God ! how I should be shocked 
if you came into my room for the first time with 
two left legs, presenting yourself with all the graces 
and dignity of a tailor, and your clothes hanging 
upon you like those in Monmouth Street, upon 
tenter- hooks ! whereas I expect, nay, require to see 
you present yourself with the easy and genteel air 
of a man of fashion who has kept good company. 
I expect you not only well dressed but very well 
dressed ; I expect a gracefulness in all your mo- 
tions and something particularly engaging in your 
address. All this I expect, and all this it is in your 
power, by care and attention, to make me find ; but 
to tell you the plain truth, if I do not find it we 
shall not converse very much together, for I cannot 
stand inattention and awkwardness, — it would en- 



TO HIS SON. 137 

danger my health. You have often seen and I 
have as often made you observe L 's ^ distin- 
guished inattention and awkwardness. Wrapped 
up Hke a Laputan in intense thought, and possibly 
sometimes in no thought at all (which I believe is 
very often the case with absent people) , he does not 
know his most intimate acquaintance by sight or 
answers them as if he were at cross purposes. He 
leaves his hat in one room, his sword in another, 
and would leave his shoes in a third, if his buckles 
though awry did not save them ; his legs and arms 
by his awkward management of them seem to have 
undergone the question extraordinaire; and his 
head always hanging upon one or other of his 
shoulders seems to have received the first stroke 
upon a block. I sincerely value and esteem him 
for his parts, learning, and virtue, but for the soul 
of me I cannot love him in company. This will be 
universally the case in common Hfe of every inat- 
tentive awkward man, let his real merit and knowl- 
edge be ever so great. When I was of your age I 
desired to shine as far as I was able in every part 
of Hfe, and was as attentive to my manners, my 
dress, and my air in company of evenings as to my 
books and my tutor in the mornings. A young 
fellow should be ambitious to shine in everything, 
and of the two always rather overdo than underdo. 
These things are by no means trifles ; they are of 
infinite consequence to those who are to be thrown 
into the great world and who would make a figure 
or a fortune in it. It is not sufficient to deserve 
1 Lord Lyttleton. 



138 LETTERS OF LORD CHESTERFIELD 

well ; one must please well too. Awkward, disagree- 
able merit will never carry anybody far. Wherever 
you find a good dancing- master, pray let him put 
you upon your haunches ; not so much for the sake 
of dancing as for coming into a room and present- 
ing yourself genteelly and gracefully. Women, 
whom you ought to endeavor to please, cannot for- 
give vulgar and awkward air and gestures ; // leur 
faut du brillant. The generality of men are pretty 
like them, and are equally taken by the same 
exterior graces. 

I am very glad that you have received the dia- 
mond buckles safe ; all I desire in return for them 
is that they may be buckled even upon your feet 
and that your stockings may not hide them. I 
should be sorry that you were an egregious fop, 
but I protest that of the two I would rather have 
you a fop than a sloven. I think negligence in my 
own dress, even at my age when certainly I expect 
no advantages from my dress, would be indecent 
with regard to others. I have done with fine 
clothes, but I will have my plain clothes fit me 
and made like other people's. In the evenings I 
recommend to you the company of women of 
fashion, who have a right to attention and will be 
paid it. Their company will smooth your manners 
and give you a habit of attention and respect, of 
which you will find the advantage among men. 



TO HIS SON. 139 



XXXVIII. 

VULGARISMS. — AN AWKWARD MAN.— THE MAN 
OF TASTE. 

London, Sept, 27, o. s. 1749. 

Dear Boy, — A vulgar ordinary way of thinking, 
acting, or speaking implies a low education and a 
habit of low company. Young people contract it 
at school, or among servants, with whom they are 
too often used to converse ; but after they frequent 
good company, they must want attention and ob- 
servation very much if they do not lay it quite 
aside. And indeed if they do not, good company 
will be very apt to lay them aside. The various 
kinds of vulgarisms are infinite ; I cannot pretend 
to point them out to you, but I will give some 
samples by which you may guess at the rest. 

A vulgar man is captious and jealous, eager and 
impetuous about trifles. He suspects himself to be 
slighted, thinks everything that is said meant at 
him. If the company happens to laugh, he is per- 
suaded they laugh at him; he grows angry and 
testy, says something very impertinent, and draws 
himself into a scrape by showing what he calls a 
proper spirit and asserting himself. A man of 
fashion does not suppose himself to be either the 
sole or principal object of the thoughts, looks, or 
words of the company ; and never suspects that he 
is either slighted or laughed at, unless he is con- 
scious that he deserves it. And if (which very 
seldom happens) the company is absurd or ill bred 



I40 LETTERS OF LORD CHESTERFIELD 

enough to do either, he does not care twopence, 
unless the insult be so gross and plain as to require 
satisfaction of another kind. As he is above trifles, 
he is never vehement and eager about them ; and 
wherever they are concerned rather acquiesces than 
wrangles. A vulgar man's conversation always 
savors strongly of the lowness of his education and 
company. It turns chiefly upon his domestic 
aflairs, his servants, the excellent order he keeps in 
his own family, and the little anecdotes of the 
neighborhood ; all which he relates with emphasis 
as interesting matters. He is a man gossip. 

Vulgarism in language is the next and distin- 
guishing characteristic of bad company and a bad 
education. A man of fashion avoids nothing with 
more care than that. Proverbial expressions and 
trite sayings are the flowers of the rhetoric of a 
vulgar man. Would he say that men differ in their 
tastes, he both supports and adorns that opinion 
by the good old saying, as he respectfully calls it, 
that " what is one man's meat is another man's 
poison." If anybody attempts being "smart," as he 
calls it, upon him, he gives them "Tit for Tat," ay, 
that he does. He has always some favorite word 
for the time being, which for the sake of using 
often he commonly abuses : such as vastly angry, 
vastly kind, vastly handsome, and vastly ugly. 
Even his pronunciation of proper words carries the 
mark of the beast along with it. He calls the 
earth yearth ; he is obleiged not obliged to you. He 
goes to wards and not towards such a place. He 
sometimes affects hard words by way of ornament, 



TO HIS SON. 141 

which he always mangles, like a learned woman. 
A man of fashion never has recourse to proverbs 
and vulgar aphorisms ; uses neither favorite words 
nor hard words, but takes great care to speak very 
correctly and grammatically, and to pronounce 
properly, — that is, according to the usage of the 
best companies. 

An awkward address, ungraceful attitudes and 
actions, and a certain left-handedness (if I may 
use that word), loudly proclaim low education and 
low company; for it is impossible to suppose that 
a man can have frequented good company without 
having catched something at least of their air and 
motions. A new-raised man is distinguished in a 
regiment by his awkwardness ; but he must be im- 
penetrably dull if in a month or two's time he 
cannot perform at least the common manual exer- 
cise and look Hke a soldier. The very accoutre- 
ments of a man of fashion are grievous encumbrances 
to a vulgar man. He is at a loss what to do with 
his hat when it is not upon his head ; his cane (if 
unfortunately he wears one) is at perpetual war 
with every cup of tea or coffee he drinks, — destroys 
them first, and then accompanies them in their fall. 
His sword is formidable only to his own legs, which 
would possibly carry him fast enough out of the 
way of any sword but his own. His clothes fit him 
so ill, and constrain him so much, that he seems 
rather their prisoner than their proprietor. He 
presents himself in company like a criminal in a 
court of justice ; his very air condemns him, and 
people of fashion will no more connect themselves 



142 LETTERS OF LORD CHESTERFIELD 

with the one than people of character will with the 
other. This repulse drives and sinks him into low 
company, a gulf from whence no man, after a certain 
age, ever emerged. 

Les 7nanieres nobles et aisees, la tournure (Tun 
homme de condition, le ton de la bonne compagnie^ 
les graces, le je ne sais quoi qui plait, are as neces- 
sary to adorn and introduce your intrinsic merit 
and knowledge as the polish is to the diamond, 
which without that polish would never be worn, 
whatever it might weigh. Do not imagine that 
these accomplishments are only useful with women ; 
they are much more so with men. In a public 
assembly what an advantage has a graceful speaker 
with genteel motions, a handsome figure, and a 
liberal air, over one who shall speak full as much 
good sense but destitute of these ornaments ! In 
business how prevalent are the Graces, how detri- 
mental is the want of them ! By the help of these 
I have known some men refuse favors less offen- 
sively than others granted them. The utility of 
them in Courts and negotiations is inconceivable. 
You gain the hearts and consequently the secrets of 
nine in ten that you have to do with in spite even 
of their prudence, — which will nine times in ten be 
the dupe of their hearts and of their senses. Con- 
sider the importance of these things as they de- 
serve and you will not lose one minute in the 
pursuit of them. 

You are travelling now in a country ^ once so fa- 
mous both for arts and arms that (however degen- 
1 Italy. 



TO HIS SON. 143 

erate at present) it still deserves your attention and 
reflection. View it therefore with care, compare its 
former with its present state, and examine into the 
causes of its rise and its decay. Consider it classi- 
cally and politically, and do not run through it, as too 
many of your young countrymen do, musically and 
(to use a ridiculous word) knick-knackically. No pip- 
ing nor fiddling, I beseech you ; no days lost in por- 
ing upon almost imperceptible intaglios and cameos ; 
and do not become a virtuoso of small wares. Form 
a taste of painting, sculpture, and architecture, if you 
please, by a careful examination of the works of the 
best ancient and modern artists ; those are liberal 
arts, and a real taste and knowledge of them be- 
come a man of fashion very well. But beyond cer- 
tain bounds the man of taste ends, and the frivolous 
virtuoso begins. 



XXXIX. 

THREE SORTS OF GOOD BREEDING 

London, Nov. 3, o. s. 1749. 
Dear Boy, — From the time that you have had 
life, it has been the principal and favorite object of 
mine to make you as perfect as the imperfections of 
human nature will allow ; in this view I have grudged 
no pains nor expense in your education, convinced 
that education more than nature is the cause of that 
great difference which you see in the characters of 
men. While you were a child, I endeavored to form 



144 LETTERS OF LORD CHESTERFIELD 

your heart habitually to virtue and honor before 
your understanding was capable of showing you their 
beauty and utility. Those principles which you 
then got, like your grammar rules, only by rote, are 
now I am persuaded fixed and confirmed by reason. 
And indeed they are so plain and clear that they re- 
quire but a very moderate degree of understand- 
ing either to comprehend or practise them. Lord 
Shaftesbury says very prettily that he would be vir- 
tuous for his own sake though nobody were to know 
it, as he would be clean for his own sake though 
nobody were to see him. I have therefore, since 
you have had the use of your reason, never written 
to you upon those subjects; they speak best for 
themselves ; and I should now just as soon think of 
warning you gravely not to fall into the dirt or the 
fire as into dishonor or vice. This view of mine I 
consider as fully attained. My next object was sound 
and useful learning. My own care first, Mr. Harte's 
afterwards, and of late (I will own it to your praise) 
your own appHcation have more than answered my 
expectations in that particular, and I have reason 
to beheve will answer even my wishes. All that re- 
mains for me then to wish, to recommend, to incul- 
cate, to order, and to insist upon is good breeding, 
without which all your other qualifications will be 
lame, unadorned, and to a certain degree unavaihng. 
And here I fear and have too much reason to be- 
lieve that you are greatly deficient. The remainder 
of this letter, therefore, shall be (and it will not be 
the last by a great many) upon that subject. 

A friend of yours and mine has very justly defined 



TO HIS SON. 



145 



good breeding to be " the result of much good sense, 
some good-nature, and a little self-denial for the sake 
of others, and with a view to obtain the same indul- 
gence from them." Taking this for granted (as I 
think it cannot be disputed), it is astonishing to me 
that anybody who has good sense and good-nature 
(and I believe you have both) can essentially fail in 
good breeding. As to the modes of it indeed they 
vary according to persons and places and circum- 
stances, and are only to be acquired by observation 
and experience j but the substance of it is every- 
where and eternally the same. Good manners are 
to particular societies what good morals are to so- 
ciety in general, — their cement and their security. 
And as laws are enacted to enforce good morals, or 
at least to prevent the ill effects of bad ones, so there 
are certain rules of civility universally implied and 
received to enforce good manners and punish bad 
ones. And indeed there seems to me to be less dif- 
ference both between the crimes and between the 
punishments than at first one would imagine. The 
immoral man who invades another man's property 
is justly hanged for it ; and the ill bred man who 
by his ill manners invades and disturbs the quiet and 
comforts of private life is by common consent as 
justly Danished society. Mutual complaisances, at- 
tentions, and sacrifices of little conveniences are as 
natural an implied compact between civiUzed people 
as protection and obedience are between kings and 
subjects ; whoever in either case violates that com- 
pact justly forfeits all advantages arising from it. 
For my own part, I really think that next to the 



146 LETTERS OF LORD CHESTERFIELD 

consciousness of doing a good action, that of doing 
a civil one is the most pleasing ; and the epithet 
which I should covet the most, next to that of Aris- 
tides, would be that of well-bred. Thus much for 
good breeding in general ; I will now consider some 
of the various modes and degrees of it. 

Very few, scarcely any, are wanting in the respect 
which they should show to those whom they ac- 
knowledge to be infinitely their superiors, — such as 
crowned heads, princes, and public persons of dis- 
tinguished and eminent posts. It is the manner of 
showing that respect which is different. The man of 
fashion and of the world expresses it in its fullest 
extent, but naturally, easily, and without concern; 
whereas a man who is not used to keep good com- 
pany, expresses it awkwardly. One sees that he is not 
used to it, and that it costs him a great deal ; but I 
never saw the worst-bred man living guilty of lolling, 
whistling, scratching his head, and such-like indecen- 
cies in company that he respected. In such com- 
panies, therefore, the only point to be attended to is 
to show that respect which everybody means to 
show in an easy, unembarrassed, and graceful man- 
ner. This is what observation and experience must 
teach you. 

In mixed companies whoever is admitted to make 
part of them is for the time at least supposed to be 
upon a footing of equality with the rest ; and conse- 
quently as there is no one principal object of awe 
and respect, people are apt to take a greater latitude 
in their behavior and to be less upon their guard ; 
and so they may, provided it be within certain 



TO HIS SON. 147 

bounds which are upon no occasion to be trans- 
gressed. But upon these occasions, though no one 
is entitled to distinguished marks of respect, every 
one claims, and very justly, every mark of civility 
and good breeding. Ease is allowed, but careless- 
ness and negligence are strictly forbidden. If a man 
accosts you and talks to you ever so dully or frivol- 
ously, it is worse than rudeness, it is brutality to show 
him by a manifest inattention to what he says that 
you think him a fool or a blockhead, and not worth 
hearing. It is much more so with regard to women ; 
who, of whatever rank they are, are entitled in con- 
sideration of their sex not only to an attentive but 
an officious good breeding from men. Their little 
wants, likings, dislikes, preferences, antipathies, fan- 
cies, whims, and even impertinencies must be offi- 
ciously attended to, flattered, and if possible, guessed 
at and anticipated by a well-bred man. You must 
never usurp to yourself those conveniences and agrt- 
mens which are of common right, such as the best 
places, the best dishes, etc., but on the contrary al- 
ways decline them yourself and offer them to others, 
who in their turns will offer them to you ; so that 
upon the whole you will in your turn enjoy your share 
of the common right. It would be endless for me to 
enumerate all the particular instances in which a well- 
bred man shows his good breeding in good company, 
and it would be injurious to you to suppose that your 
own good sense will not point them out to you ; and 
then your own good-nature will recommend, and your 
self-interest enforce the practice. 

There is a third sort of good breeding in which 



148 LETTERS OF LORD CHESTERFIELD 

people are the most apt to fail from a very mis- 
taken notion that they cannot fail at all, — I mean 
with regard to one's most familiar friends and ac- 
quaintances, or those who really are our inferiors ; 
and there undoubtedly a greater degree of ease is 
not only allowed but proper, and contributes much 
to the comforts of a private social life. But that 
ease and freedom have their bounds too, which 
must by no means be violated. A certain degree 
of negligence and carelessness becomes injurious 
and insulting from the real or supposed inferiority 
of the persons ; and that delightful liberty of con- 
versation among a few friends is soon destroyed, as 
liberty often has been, by being carried to licen- 
tiousness. But example explains things best, and I 
will put a pretty strong case. Suppose you and me 
alone together ; I believe you will allow that I have 
as good a right to unlimited freedom in your com- 
pany as either you or I can possibly have in any 
other, and I am apt to believe too that you would 
indulge me in that freedom as far as anybody 
would. But notwithstanding this, do you imagine 
that I should think there were no bounds to that 
freedom ? I assure you I should not think so ; and 
I take myself to be as much tied down by a cer- 
tain degree of good manners to you as by other 
degrees of them to other people. Were I to show 
you by a manifest inattention to what you said to 
me that I was thinking of something else the whole 
time ; were I to yawn extremely or snore in your 
company, I should think that I behaved myself to 
you like a beast and should not expect that you 



TO HIS SON. 149 

would care to frequent me. No ; the most famil- 
iar and intimate habitudes, connections, and friend- 
ships require a degree of good breeding both to 
preserve and cement them. If ever a man and his 
wife, who pass nights as well as days together, abso- 
lutely lay aside all good breeding, their intimacy 
will soon degenerate into a coarse familiarity in- 
fallibly productive of contempt or disgust. The 
best of us have our bad sides, and it is as impru- 
dent as it is ill bred to exhibit them. I shall cer- 
tainly not use ceremony with you; it would be 
misplaced between us ; but I shall certainly observe 
that degree of good breeding with you which is in 
the first place decent, and which I am sure is 
absolutely necessary to make us like one another's 
company long. 

I will say no more now upon this important sub- 
ject of good breeding, which I have already dwelt 
upon too long, it may be, for one letter, and upon 
which I shall frequently refresh your memory here- 
after ; but I will conclude with these axioms : 

That the deepest learning without good breeding 
is unwelcome and tiresome pedantry and of no use 
nowhere but in a man's own closet, and conse- 
quently, of Httle or no use at all. 

That a man who is not perfectly well bred is un- 
fit for good company and unwelcome in it, will 
consequently disHke it soon, afterwards renounce it; 
and be reduced to solitude or (what is worse) low 
and bad company. 

That a man who is not well bred is fiiU as unfit 
for business as for company. 



150 LETTERS OF LORD CHESTERFIELD 

Make then, my dear child, I conjure you, good 
breeding the great object of your thoughts and ac- 
tions, at least half the day. Observe carefully the 
behavior and manners of those who are distin- 
guished by their good breeding; imitate, nay, en- 
deavor to excel, that you may at last reach them ; 
and be convinced that good breeding is to all 
worldly qualifications what charity is to all Chris- 
tian virtues. Observe how it adorns merit, and 
how often it covers the want of it. May you wear 
it to adorn and not to cover you ! Adieu. 



XL. 

THE SAME SUBJECT CONTINUED. 

London, N'ov. 14, o s. 1749. 
Dear Boy, — There is a natural good breeding 
which occurs to every man of common- sense and 
is practised by every man of common good-nature. 
This good breeding is general, independent of 
modes, and consists in endeavors to please and 
oblige our fellow-creatures by all good offices short 
of moral duties. This will be practised by a good- 
natured American savage as essentially as by the 
best-bred European. But then I do not take it to 
extend to the sacrifice of our own conveniences for 
the sake of other people's. Utihty introduced this 
sort of good breeding as it introduced commerce, 
and established a truck ^ of the little agremens and 

1 Barter. 



TO HIS SON. 151 

pleasures of life. I sacrifice such a conveniency to 
you, you sacrifice another to me ; this commerce 
circulates, and every individual finds his account in 
it upon the whole. The third sort of good breeding 
is local and is variously modified in not only 
different countries but in different towns of the 
same country. But it must be founded upon the 
two former sorts ; they are the matter to which, in 
this case, fashion and custom only give the different 
shapes and impressions. Whoever has the two 
first sorts will easily acquire this third sort of good 
breeding, which depends singly upon attention and 
observation. It is properly the polish, the lustre, 
the last finishing stroke of good breeding. It is to 
be found only in capitals, and even there it varies, — 
the good breeding of Rome differing in some things 
from that of Paris ; that of Paris in others from that 
of Madrid ; and that of Madrid in many things 
from that of London. A man of sense, therefore, 
carefully attends to the local manners of the re- 
spective places where he is and takes for his 
models those persons whom he observes to be at 
the head of fashion and good breeding. He 
watches how they address themselves to their supe- 
riors, how they accost their equals, and how they 
treat their inferiors ; and lets none of those little 
niceties escape him which are to good breeding 
what the last delicate and masterly touches are to a 
good picture, and of which the vulgar have no 
notion, but by which good judges distinguish the 
master. He attends even to their air, dress, and 
motions, and imitates them liberally and not ser- 



152 LETTERS OF LORD CHESTERFIELD 

vilely ; he copies but does not mimic. These per- 
sonal graces are of very great consequence. They 
anticipate the sentiments before merit can engage 
the understanding; they captivate the heart, and 
gave rise I believe to the extravagant notions of 
charms and philters. Their effects were so sur- 
prising that they were reckoned supernatural. The 
most graceful and best-bred men and the hand- 
somest and genteelest women give the most philters, 
and as I verily believe without the least assistance 
of the devil. Pray be not only well dressed but 
shining in your dress; let it have du brillant ; I 
do not mean by a clumsy load of gold and silver, 
but by the taste and fashion of it. Women like 
and require it ; they think it an attention due to 
them. But on the other hand if your motions and 
carriage are not graceful, genteel, and natural, your 
fine clothes will only display your awkwardness the 
more. But I am unwilling to suppose you still 
awkward, for surely by this time you must have 
catched a good air in good company. When you 
went from hence you were naturally awkward, but 
your awkwardness was adventitious and Westmonas- 
terial. Leipsic, I apprehend, is not the seat of the 
Graces, and I presume you acquired none there. 
But now if you will be pleased to observe what peo- 
ple of the first fashion do with their legs and arms, 
heads and bodies, you will reduce yours to certain 
decent laws of motion. You danced pretty well 
here and ought to dance very well before you come 
home ; for what one is obliged to do sometimes 
one ought to be able to do well. Besides, la belle 



TO HIS SON, 153 

danse donne du brillant a un jeune hofntnCy and 
you should endeavor to shine. A calm serenity, 
negative merit and graces, do not become your age. 
You should be alerte, adroit^ vif ; be wanted, 
talked of, impatiently expected, and unwillingly 
parted with in company. I should be glad to hear 
half a dozen women of fashion say, " Ou est done le 
petit Stanhope? Que ne vient-il? II faut avouer 
qu'il est aimable." All this I do not mean singly 
with regard to women as the principal object, but 
with regard to men and with a view of your making 
yourself considerable. For with very small varia- 
tions the same things that please women please 
men, and a man whose manners are softened and 
poHshed by women of fashion and who is formed 
by them to an habitual attention and complaisance, 
will please, engage, and connect men much easier 
and more than he would otherwise. You must be 
sensible that you cannot rise in the world without 
forming connections and engaging different charac- 
ters to conspire in your point. You must make 
them your dependants without their knowing it, 
and dictate to them while you seem to be directed 
by them. Those necessary connections can never 
be formed or preserved but by an uninterrupted 
series of complaisance, attentions, politeness, and 
some constraint. You must engage their hearts if 
you would have their support ; you must watch the 
mollia tempora, and captivate them by the agr/mens 
and charms of conversation. People will not be 
called out to your service only when you want them ; 
and if you expect to receive strength from them, 



154 LETTERS OF LORD CHESTERFIELD 

they must receive either pleasure or advantage 
from you. 



XLI. 

\\- GOOD BREEDING IMPORTANT IN DIPLOMACY. —CIV- 
ILITY TOWARD WOMEN. — ILLUSTRATION DRAWN 
FROM ARCHITECTURE. 

{No date.\ 
Dear Boy, — My last was upon the subject of 
good breeding, but I think it rather set before you 
the unfitness and disadvantages of ill breeding than 
the utility and necessity of good ; it was rather 
negative than positive. This therefore should go 
further and explain to you the necessity which you 
of all people living lie under, not only of being 
positively and actively well bred but of shining 
and distinguishing yourself by your good breeding. 
Consider your own situation in every particular and 
judge whether it is not essentially your interest by 
your own good breeding to others to secure theirs 
to you ; and that, let me assure you, is the only way 
of doing it ; for people will repay, and with interest 
too, inattention with inattention, neglect with ne- 
glect, and ill manners with worse, — which may 
engage you in very disagreeable affairs. In the 
next place your profession requires more than any 
other the nicest and most distinguished good breed- 
ing. You will negotiate with very little success if 
you do not previously by your manners conciliate 
and engage the affections of those with whom you 



TO HIS SON. 155 

are to negotiate. Can you ever get into the confi- 
dence and the secrets of the Courts where you may 
happen to reside, if you have not those pleasing, 
insinuating manners which alone can procure them ? 
Upon my word I do not say too much when I say 
that superior good breeding, insinuating manners, 
and genteel address are half your business. Your 
knowledge will have but very little influence upon 
the mind if your manners prejudice the heart 
against you ; but on the other hand, how easily 
will you dupe the understanding where you have 
first engaged the heart ! and hearts are by no 
means to be gained by that mere common civility 
which everybody practises. Bowing again to those 
who bow to you, answering dryly those who speak 
to you, and saying nothing offensive to anybody 
is such negative good breeding that it is only not 
being a brute. It is an active, cheerful, officious, 
seducing good breeding that must gain you the 
good will and first sentiments of men and the affec- 
tions of the women. You must carefully watch and 
attend to their passions, their tastes, their little hu- 
mors and weaknesses, and alter au devant. You 
must do it at the same time with alacrity and em- 
presseinentj and not as if you graciously conde- 
scended to humor their weaknesses. 

For instance, suppose you invited anybody to dine 
or sup with you, you ought to recollect if you had 
observed that they had any favorite dish and take 
care to provide it for them : and when it came you 
should say, " You seemed to me at such and such a 
place to give this dish a preference, and therefore I 



156 LETTERS OF LORD CHESTERFIELD 

ordered it. This is the wine that I observed you 
liked and therefore I procured some." The more 
trifling these things are the more they prove your 
attention for the person and are consequently the 
more engaging. Consult your own breast and rec- 
ollect how these little attentions when shown you by 
others flatter that degree of self-love and vanity 
from which no man living is free. Reflect how 
they incline and attract you to that person and how 
you are propitiated afterwards to all which that per- 
son says or does. The same causes will have the 
same effects in your favor. Women in a great de- 
gree establish or destroy every man's reputation of 
good breeding; you must, therefore, in a manner 
overwhelm them with these attentions, — they are 
used to them, they expect them, and to do them 
justice, they commonly requite them. You must 
be sedulous and rather over- officious than under in 
procuring them their coaches, their chairs, their 
conveniences in public places ; not see what you 
should not see, and rather assist where you cannot 
help seeing. Opportunities of showing these atten- 
tions present themselves perpetually; but if they 
do not, make them. As Ovid advises his lover, 
when he sits in the Circus near his mistress, to wipe 
the dust off her neck even if there be none : " Si 
nullus, tamen excute nullum." Your conversation 
with women should always be respectful, but at the 
same time enjoui, and always addressed to their 
vanity. Everything you say or do should convince 
them of the regard you have (whether you have it 
or not) for their beauty, their wit, or their merit. 



TO HIS SON. 157 

Men have possibly as much vanity as women, though 
of another kind; and both art and good breeding 
require that instead of mortifying, you should please 
and flatter it by words and looks of approbation. 
Suppose (which is by no means improbable) that 
at your return to England I should place you near 
the person of some one of the royal family ; in that 
situation, good breeding, engaging address, adorned 
with all the graces that dwell at Courts, would very 
probably make you a favorite and from a favorite a 
minister ; but all the knowledge and learning in the 
world without them never would. The penetration 
of princes seldom goes deeper than the surface. It 
is the exterior that always engages their hearts, and 
I would never advise you to give yourself much 
trouble about their understanding. Princes in gen- 
eral (I mean those Porphyrogeiiets'^ who are born 
and bred in purple) are about the pitch of women, 
bred up hke them, and are to be addressed and 
gained in the same manner. They always see, they 
seldom weigh. Your lustre, not your solidity, must 
take them ; your inside will afterwards support and 
secure what your outside has acquired. With weak 
people (and they undoubtedly are three parts in 
four of mankind) good breeding, address, and man- 
ners are everything ; they can go no deeper ; but 
let me assure you that they are a great deal even 

1 An apartment of the Byzantine palace was lined with 
porphyry ; it was reserved for the use of the pregnant em- 
presses, and the royal birth of their children was expressed 
by the appellation of " Porphyrogenite," or Born in the Pur- 
ple. — Gibbon ; Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire, ch* 
xlviii. 



158 LETTERS OF LORD CHESTERFIELD 

with people of the best understandings. Where the 
eyes are not pleased and the heart is not flattered, 
the mind will be apt to stand out. Be this right or 
wrong, I confess I am so made myself. Awkward- 
ness and ill breeding shock me to that degree, that 
where I meet with them I cannot find in my heart 
to inquire into the intrinsic merit of that person; 
I hastily decide in myself that he can have none, 
and am not sure that I should not even be sorry to 
know that he had any. I often paint you in my 
imagination in your present lo7itananza, and while 
I view you in the light of ancient and modem 
learning, useful and ornamental knowledge, I am 
charmed with the prospect; but when I view you 
in another light, and represent you awkward, un- 
graceful, ill bred, with vulgar air and manners, 
shambling towards me with inattention and distrac- 
tions, I shall not pretend to describe to you what 
I feel, but will do as a skilful painter did formerly, — 
draw a veil before the countenance of the father.^ 

I dare say you know already enough of Architec- 
ture to know that the Tuscan is the strongest and most 
soUd of all the Orders ; but at the same time, it is the 
coarsest and clumsiest of them. Its solidity does ex- 
tremely well for the foundation and base floor of a 
great edifice ; but if the whole building be Tuscan, 
it will attract no eyes, it will stop no passengers, it 
will invite no interior examination. People will take 
it for granted that the finishing and furnishing can- 
not be worth seeing where the front is so unadorned 

1 Probably an allusion to Timanthes' painting of the sac- 
rifice of Iphigeneia. 



TO HIS SON. 159 

and clumsy. But if upon the solid Tuscan founda- 
tion, the Doric, the Ionic, and the Corinthian Orders 
rise gradually with all their beauty, proportions, and 
ornaments, the fabric seizes the most incurious eye 
and stops the most careless passenger, who solicits 
admission as a favor, nay, often purchases it. Just 
so will it fare with your little fabric, which at pres- 
ent I fear has more of the Tuscan than of the Cor- 
inthian Order. You must absolutely change the 
whole front, or nobody will knock at the door. The 
several parts which must compose this new front are 
elegant, easy, natural, superior good breeding; an 
engaging address ; genteel motions ; an insinuating 
softness in your looks, words, and actions ; a spruce, 
lively air, fashionable dress ; and all the glitter that 
a young fellow should have. 

I am sure you would do a great deal for my sake ; 
and therefore consider, at your return here, what a 
disappointment and concern it would be to me, if I 
could not safely depute you to do the honors of my 
house and table, and if I should be ashamed to 
present you to those who frequent both. Should 
you be awkward, inattentive, and distrait, and hap- 
pen to meet Mr. L [yttleton] at my table, the con- 
sequences of that meeting must be fatal ; you would 
run your heads against each other, cut each other's 
fingers instead of your meat, or die by the precipi- 
tate infusion of scalding soup. 

This is really so copious a subject that there is no 
end of being either serious or ludicrous upon it. It 
is impossible, too, to enumerate or state to you the 
various cases in good breeding; they are infinite. 



l60 LETTERS OF LORD CHESTERFIELD 

There is no situation or relation in the world so re- 
mote or so intimate that does not require a degree 
of it. Your own good sense must point it out to 
you; your own good-nature must incline, and your 
interest prompt you to practise it; and observation 
and experience must give you the manner, the air, 
and the graces which complete the whole. 

I have often asserted that the profoundest learn- 
ing and the politest manners were by no means in- 
compatible, though so seldom found united in the 
same person ; and I have engaged myself to exhibit 
you as a proof of the truth of this assertion. Should 
you, instead of that, happen to disprove me, the con- 
cern indeed would be mine, but the loss will be yours. 
Lord Bolingbroke is a strong instance on my side of 
the question ; he joins to the deepest erudition the 
most elegant politeness and good breeding that ever 
any courtier and man of the world was adorned with, 
and Pope very justly called him "all-accomplished 
St. John," with regard to his knowledge and his 
manners. He had, it is true, his faults, which pro- 
ceeded from unbounded ambition and impetuous 
passions, but they have now subsided by age and 
experience ; and I can wish you nothing better than 
to be what he is now, without being what he has been 
formerly. His address pre-engages, his eloquence 
persuades, and his knowledge informs all who ap- 
proach him. Upon the whole, I do desire and 
insist that from after dinner till you go to bed, you 
make good breeding, address, and manners your 
serious object and your only care. Without them, 



TO HIS SON. l6l 

you will be nobody ; with them, you may be any- 
thing. 

Adieu, my dear child. My compUments to Mr. 
Harte. 



XLII. 

GREAT EVENTS FROM TRIVIAL CAUSES. — HOW TO 
SHINE AS AN ORATOR. 

London, Dec. 5, o. s. 1749. 
Dear Boy, — Those who suppose that men in 
general act rationally because they are called ra- 
tional creatures know very little of the world, and 
if they act themselves upon that supposition will 
nine times in ten find themselves grossly mistaken. 
That man is animal bipes, implume, risibile, I en- 
tirely agree ; but for the ratioiiale, I can only allow 
it him in actu primo (to talk logic) and seldom 
in actu secundo. Thus the speculative, cloistered 
pedant in his solitary cell forms systems of things 
as they should be, not as they are ; and writes as 
decisively and absurdly upon war, politics, manners, 
and characters as that pedant talked who was so 
kind as to instruct Hannibal in the art of war. 
Such closet politicians never fail to assign the deep- 
est motives for the most trifling actions instead of 
often ascribing the greatest actions to the most 
trifling causes, in which they would be much sel- 
domer mistaken. They read and write of kings, 
heroes, and statesmen as never doing anything 
but upon the deepest principles of sound policy. 



1 62 LETTERS OF LORD CHESTERFIELD 

But those who see and observe kings, heroes, and 
statesmen discover that they have headaches, in- 
digestions, humors, and passions, just Hke other 
people, every one of which in their turns determine 
their wills in defiance of their reason. Had we only 
read in the Life of Alexander that he burnt Perse- 
polis, it would doubtless have been accounted for 
from deep policy ; we should have been told that 
his new conquest could not have been secured with- 
out the destruction of that capital which would have 
been the constant seat of cabals, conspiracies, and 
revolts. But luckily we are informed at the same 
time that this hero, this demi-god, this son and heir 
of Jupiter Ammon, happened to get extremely 
drunk with his mistress, and by way of frolic de- 
stroyed one of the finest cities in the world. Read 
men, therefore, yourself, not in books but in nature. 
Adopt no systems but study them yourself. Ob- 
serve their weaknesses, their passions, their humors, 
of all which their understandings are nine times in 
ten the dupes. You will then know that they are 
to be gained, influenced, or led much oftener by 
little things than by great ones ; and consequently 
you will no longer think those things little which 
tend to such great purposes. 

Let us apply this now to the particular object of 
this letter, — I mean speaking in and influencing 
public assembHes. The nature of our constitution 
makes eloquence more useful and more necessary 
in this country than in any other in Europe. A 
certain degree of good sense and knowledge is re- 
quisite for that as well as for everything else ; but 



TO HIS SON. 163 

beyond that, the purity of diction, the elegance of 
style, the harmony of periods, a pleasing elocution, 
and a graceful action are the things which a public 
speaker should attend to the most, because his 
audience certainly does, and understands them the 
best, or rather indeed understands little else. The 
late Lord Chancellor Cowper's strength as an ora- 
tor lay by no means in his reasonings, for he often 
hazarded very weak ones. But such was the purity 
and elegance of his style, such the propriety and 
charms of his elocution, and such the gracefulness 
of his action, that he never spoke without universal 
applause j the ears and the eyes gave him up the 
hearts and the understandings of the audience. On 
the contrary, the late Lord Townshend always spoke 
materially, \vith argument and knowledge, but never 
pleased. Why? His diction was not only inele- 
gant but frequently ungrammatical, always vulgar, 
his cadences false, his voice unharmonious, and his 
action ungraceful. Nobody heard him with pa- 
tience, and the young fellows used to joke upon 
him and repeat his inaccuracies. The late Duke of 
Argyle,^ though the weakest reasoner, was the most 
pleasing speaker I ever knew in my life; he 
charmed, he warmed, he forcibly ravished the audi- 
ence, — not by his matter certainly, but by his 
manner of delivering it. A most genteel figure, a 
graceful, noble air, an harmonious voice, an ele- 
gance of style, and a strength of emphasis conspired 

1 Of whom Thomson wrote, — 

" From his rich tongue 

Persuasion flows and wins the high debate." 



1 64 LETTERS OF LORD CHESTERFIELD 

to make him the most affecting, persuasive, and 
applauded speaker I ever saw. I was captivated 
like others ; but when I came home and coolly con- 
sidered what he had said, stripped of all those 
ornaments in which he had dressed it, I often found 
the matter flimsy, the arguments weak, and I was 
convinced of the power of those adventitious con- 
curring circumstances which ignorance of mankind 
only calls trifling ones. Cicero in his book de Ora- 
tore^ in order to raise the dignity of that profession 
which he well knew himself to be at the head of, 
asserts that a complete orator must be a complete 
everything, lawyer, philosopher, divine, etc. That 
would be extremely well if it were possible, but 
man's life is not long enough; and I hold him to 
be the completest orator who speaks the best upon 
that subject which occurs, — whose happy choice of 
words, whose lively imagination, whose elocution 
and action adorn and grace his matter at the same 
time that they excite the attention and engage the 
passions of his audience. 

You will be of the House of Commons as soon as 
you are of age ; and you must first make a figure 
there, if you would make a figure or a fortune in 
your country. This you can never do without that 
correctness and elegance in your own language 
which you now seem to neglect and which you have 
entirely to learn. Fortunately for you, it is to be 
learned. Care and observation will do it ; but do 
not flatter yourself that all the knowledge, sense, 
and reasoning in the world will ever make you a 
popular and applauded speaker without the oma- 



TO HIS SON'. 165 

ments and the graces of style, elocution, and action. 
Sense and argument, though coarsely delivered, will 
have their weight in a private conversation with two 
or three people of sense ; but in a public assembly 
they will have none, if naked and destitute of the 
advantages I have mentioned. Cardinal de Retz 
observes very justly that every numerous assembly 
is a mob, influenced by their passions, humors, and 
affections, which nothing but eloquence ever did or 
ever can engage. This is so important a considera- 
tion for everybody in this country, and more par- 
ticularly for you, that I earnestly recommend it to 
your most serious care and attention. Mind your 
diction in whatever language you either write or 
speak ; contract a habit of correctness and elegance ; 
consider your style even in the freest conversation 
and most familiar letters. After at least, if not be- 
fore, you have said a thing, reflect if you could not 
have said it better. Where you doubt of the pro- 
priety or elegance of a word or a phrase, consult 
some good dead or living authority in that lan- 
guage. Use yourself to translate from various lan- 
guages into English ; correct those translations till 
they satisfy your ear as well as your understanding. 
And be convinced of this truth, that the best sense 
and reason in the world will be as unwelcome in a 
public assembly without these ornaments as they 
will in public companies without the assistance of 
manners and politeness. If you will please people 
you must please them in their own way ; and as 
you cannot make them what they should be, you 
must take them as they are. I repeat it again, they 



1 66 LETTERS OP LORD CHESTERFIELD 

are only to be taken by agrimens and by what flat- 
ters their senses and their hearts. Rabelais first 
wrote a most excellent book which nobody liked ; 
then, determined to conform to the public taste, he 
wrote " Gargantuaand Pantagmel," which everybody 
liked, extravagant as it was. Adieu. 



XLIII. 

"THE TONGUE TO PERSUADE." 

London, Dec. 12, o. s. 1749. 
Dear Boy, — Lord Clarendon in his history says 
of Mr. John Hampden that " he had a head to con- 
trive, a tongue to persuade, and a hand to execute 
any mischief." I shall not now enter into the just- 
ness of this character of Mr. Hampden, to whose 
brave stand against the illegal demand of ship-money 
we owe our present liberties ; but I mention it to you 
as the character, which, with the alteration of one sin- 
gle word, Good, instead of Mischief, I would have 
you aspire to, and use your utmost endeavors to de- 
serve. The head to contrive God must to a certain 
degree have given you ; but it is in your own power 
greatly to improve it by study, observation, and re- 
flection. As for the " tongue to persuade," it wholly 
depends upon yourself; and without it the best head 
will contrive to very little purpose. The hand to ex- 
ecute depends hkewise, in my opinion, in a great 
measure upon yourself. Serious reflection will al- 
ways give courage in a good cause ; and the courage 
arising from reflection is of a much superior nature 



TO HIS SON. 167 

to the animal and constitutional courage of a foot sol- 
dier. The former is steady and unshaken, where the 
nodus is dignus vindice ; the latter is oftener im- 
properly than properly exerted, but always brutally. 

The second member of my text (to speak eccle- 
siastically) shall be the subject of my following 
discourse, — the tongue to persuade, — as judicious 
preachers recommend those virtues which they think 
* their several audiences want the most, such as truth 
and continence at Court, disinterestedness in the 
city, and sobriety in the country. 

You must certainly in the course of your little 
experience have felt the different effects of elegant 
and inelegant speaking. Do you not suffer when 
people accost you in a stammering or hesitating 
manner, in an untuneful voice with false accents and 
cadences, puzzling and blundering through sole- 
cisms, barbarisms, and vulgarisms, misplacing even 
their bad words, and inverting all method? Does 
not this prejudice you against their matter, be it 
what it will ; nay, even against their persons ? I am 
sure it does me. On the other hand, do you not 
feel yourself inclined, prepossessed, nay, even en- 
gaged in favor of those who address you in the direct 
contrary manner? The effects of a correct and 
adorned style, of method and perspicuity, are in- 
credible towards persuasion ; they often supply the 
want of reason and argument, but when used in the 
support of reason and argument, they are irresistible. 
The French attend verj' much to the purity and ele- 
gance of their style, even in common conversation ; 
insomuch that it is a character to say of a man, " qu'il 



1 68 LETTERS OF LORD CHESTERFIELD 

narre bien." Their conversations frequently turn 
upon the delicacies of their language, and an academy 
is employed in fixing it. The Crusca in Italy has the 
same object ; and I have met with very few Italians 
who did not speak their own language correctly and 
elegantly. How much more necessary is it for an 
Englishman to do so, who is to speak it in a public 
assembly where the laws and liberties of his country 
are the subjects of his deliberation ? The tongue that 
would persuade there must not content itself with 
mere articulation. ... If you have the least defect 
in your elocution, take the utmost care and pains to 
correct it. Do not neglect your style, whatever lan- 
guage you speak in, or whomever you speak to, were 
it your footman. Seek always for the best words and 
the happiest expressions you can find. Do not con- 
tent yourself with being barely understood, but adorn 
your thoughts, and dress them as you would your 
person ; which, however well proportioned it might 
be, it would be very improper and indecent to ex- 
hibit naked, or even worse dressed than people of 
your sort are. 



XLIV. 

MAN'S INCONSISTENCY. —RICHELIEU AND MAZARIN. 
— WOMEN MORE ALIKE THAN MEN —ON RASH 
CONFIDENCES. 

London, Dec. 19, o. s. 1749. 
Dear Boy, — The knowledge of mankind is a very 
useful knowledge for everybody, — a most necessary 



TO HIS SOI^. 169 

one for you, who are destined to an active public 
life. You will have to do with all sorts of characters ; 
you should therefore know them thoroughly in order 
to manage them ably. This knowledge is not to be 
gotten systematically; you must acquire it yourself 
by your own observation and sagacity. I will give 
you such hints as I think may be useful land-marks 
in your intended progress. 

I have often told you (and it is most true) that 
with regard to mankind we must not draw general 
conclusions from certain particular principles, though 
in the main true ones. We must not suppose that 
because a man is a rational animal, he will therefore 
always act rationally ; or because he has such or such 
a predominate passion, that he will act invariably and 
consequentially in the pursuit of it. No, we are 
complicated machines; and though we have one 
main spring that gives motion to the whole, we have 
an infinity of little wheels, which in their turns re- 
tard, precipitate, and sometimes stop that motion. 

There are two inconsistent passions, which however 
frequently accompany each other, like man and wife ; 
and which, like man and wife too, are commonly 
clogs upon each other. I mean ambition and ava- 
rice. The latter is often the true cause of the former, 
and then is the predominant passion. It seems to 
have been so in Cardinal Mazarin, who did anything, 
submitted to anything, and forgave anything for the 
sake of plunder. He loved and courted power Hke 
an usurer, because it carried profit along with it. 
Whoever should have formed his opinion or taken 



I/O LETTERS OF LORD CHESTERFIELD 

his measures singly, from the ambitious part of Car- 
dinal Mazarin's character, would have found himself 
often mistaken. Some who had found this out made 
their fortunes by letting him cheat them at play. On 
the contrary, Cardinal Richelieu's prevailing passion 
seems to have been ambition, and his immense riches 
only the natural consequences of that ambition grati- 
fied ; and yet I make no doubt but that ambition 
had now and then its turn with the former, and ava- 
rice with the latter. Richelieu (by the way) is so 
strong a proof of the inconsistency of human nature 
that I cannot help observing to you that while he 
absolutely governed both his king and his country, 
and was in a great degree the arbiter of the fate of all 
Europe, he was more jealous of the great reputation 
of Corneille than of the power of Spain ; and more 
flattered with being thought (what he was not) the 
best poet than with being thought (what he certainly 
was) the greatest statesman in Europe ; and affairs 
stood still while he was concerting the criticism upon 
the " Cid." Could one think this possible if one did 
not know it to be true ? Though men are all of one 
composition, the several ingredients are so differently 
proportioned in each individual, that no two are ex- 
actly alike, and no one at all times like himself. 
The ablest man will sometimes do weak things ; the 
proudest man, mean things ; the honestest man, ill 
things ; and the wickedest man, good ones. Study 
individuals then, and if you take (as you ought to 
do) their outlines from their prevailing passion, sus- 
pend your last finishing strokes till you have attended 
to and discovered the operations of their inferior pas- 



TO HIS SON. 171 

sions, appetites, and humors. A man's general 
character may be that of the honestest man of the 
world. Do not dispute it, — you might be thought 
envious or ill-natured; but at the same time do 
not take this probity upon trust to such a degree 
as to put your life, fortune, or reputation in his 
power. This honest man may happen to be your 
rival in power, in int^^^, or in love^ — ^^££«.£SSi- 
sions tliaf^ften put honesty to most severe trials 
in which it is too often cast ; but first analyze this 
honest man yourself, and then only you will be 
able to judge how far you may, or may not, with 
safety trust him. 

Women are much more like each other than men : 
they have in truth but two passions, vanity and love ; 
these are their universal characteristics. An Agrip- 
pina may sacrifice them to ambition, or a Messalina 
to lust, but those instances are rare ; and in general 
all they say and all they do, tends to the gratifica- 
tion of their vanity or their love. He who flatters 
them most pleases them best, and they are the 
most in love with him who they think is the most in 
love with them. No adulation is too strong for 
them; no assiduity too great; as, on the other 
hand, the least word or action that can possibly 
be construed into a slight or contempt is unpar- 
donable, and never forgotton. Men are in this 
respect tender too, and will sooner forgive an injury 
than an insult. Some men are more captious than 
others ; some are always wrong-headed ; but every 
man living has such a share of vanity as to be hurt by 
marks of slight and contempt. Every man does not 



1/2 LETTERS OF LORD CHESTERFIELD 

pretend to be a poet, a mathematician, or a states- 
man, and considered as such ; but every man pre- 
tends to common-sense and to fill his place in the 
world with common decency, and consequently 
does not easily forgive those negligences, inatten- 
tions, and slights which seem to call in question 
or utterly deny him both these pretensions. 

Suspect, in general, those who remarkably affect 
any one virtue ; who raise it above all others, and 
who in a manner intimate that they possess it 
exclusively. I say suspect them, for they are com- 
monly impostors ; but do not be sure that they are 
always so, for I have sometimes known saints really 
rehgious, blusterers really brave, reformers of man- 
ners really honest, and prudes really chaste. Pry 
into the recesses of their hearts yourself, as far as 
you are able, and never implicitly adopt a character 
upon common fame, — which though generally right 
as to the great outlines of characters is always wrong 
in some particulars. 

Be upon your guard against those who upon very 
slight acquaintance obtrude their unasked and un- 
merited friendship and confidence upon you, for 
they probably cram you with them only for their 
own eating ; but at the same time, do not roughly 
reject them upon that general supposition. Exam- 
ine further and see whether those unexpected offers 
flow from a warm heart and a silly head, or from 
a designing head and a cold heart ; for knavery and 
folly have often the same symptoms. In the first 
case there is no danger in accepting them, Valeant 
quantum valere possunt. In the latter case it may 



TO HIS SON. 



173 



be useful to seem to accept them, and artfully to 
turn the battery upon him who raised it. 

There is an incontinency of friendship among 
young fellows who are associated by their mutual 
pleasures only, which has very frequently bad con- 
sequences. A parcel of warm hearts and inexperi- 
enced heads, heated by convivial mirth and possibly 
a little too much wine, vow, and really mean at the 
time, eternal friendships to each other, and indis- 
creetly pour out their whole souls in common, and 
without the least reserve. These confidences are as 
indiscreetly repealed as they were made ; for new 
pleasures and new places soon dissolve this ill- 
cemented connection ; and then very ill uses are 
made of these rash confidences. Bear your part, 
however, in young companies ; nay, excel if you can 
in all the social and convivial joy and festivity that 
become youth, — but keep your serious views secret. 
Trust those only to some tried friend, more experi- 
enced than yourself, and who being in a different 
walk of life from you, is not likely to become your 
rival; for I would not advise you to depend so 
much upon the heroic virtue of mankind as to 
hope or believe that your competitor will ever be 
your friend as to the object of that competition. 

These are reserves and cautions very necessary to 
have, but very imprudent to show ; the volto sciolio 
should accompany them. Adieu. 



174 LETTERS OF LORD CHESTERFIELD 
XLV. 

ON THE LENIORES VIRTUTES. 

\No Date.^ 
Dear Boy, — Great talents and great virtues (if 
you should have them) will procure you the respect 
and the admiration of mankind ; but it is the lesser 
talents, the leniores virtutes, which must procure you 
their love and affection. The former, unassisted 
and unadorned by the latter, will extort praise, but 
will at the same time excite both fear and envy, — 
two sentiments absolutely incompatible with love 
and affection. 

Caesar had all the great vices and Cato all the 
great virtues that men could have. But Caesar had 
the leniores virtutes, which Cato wanted, and which 
made him beloved even by his enemies and gained 
him the hearts of mankind in spite of their reason ; 
while Cato was not even beloved by his friends, not- 
withstanding the esteem and respect which they 
could not refuse to his virtues ; and I am apt to 
think that if Caesar had wanted and Cato possessed 
those leniores virtules, the former would not have 
attempted (at least with success) and the latter 
could have protected the liberties of Rome. Mr. 
Addison, in his Cato, says of Caesar, — and I believe 
with truth, — 

" Curse on his virtues, they Ve undone his country ! " 
By which he means those lesser but engaging virtues 
of gentleness, affability, complaisance, and good hu- 
mor. The knowledge of a scholar, the courage of 



TO HIS SON. 175 

a hero, and the virtue of a Stoic, will be admired ; 
but if the knowledge be accompanied with arro- 
gance, the courage with ferocity, and the virtue 
with inflexible severity, the man will never be loved. 
The heroism of Charles XII. of Sweden (if his bru- 
tal courage deserves that name) was universally ad- 
mired, but the man nowhere beloved; whereas 
Henry IV. of France, who had full as much courage 
and was much longer engaged in wars, was generally 
beloved upon account of his lesser and social vir- 
tues. We are all so formed that our understandings 
are generally the dupes of our hearts, that is, of 
our passions; and the surest way to the former is 
through the latter, which must be engaged by the 
leniores virtutes alone and the manner of exerting 
them. The insolent civility of a proud man is, for 
example, if possible more shocking than his rude- 
ness could be, because he shows you by his man- 
ner that he thinks it mere condescension in him ; 
and that his goodness alone bestows upon you what 
you have no pretence to claim. He intimates his 
protection instead of his friendship by a gracious 
nod instead of an usual bow; and rather signifies 
his consent that you may, than his invitation that 
you should, sit, walk, eat, or drink with him. 

The costive hberality of a purse-proud man insults 
the distresses it sometimes reHeves ; he takes care 
to make you feel your own misfortunes and the 
difference between your situation and his, — both 
which he insinuates to be justly merited, yours by 
your folly, his by his wisdom. The arrogant pedant 
does not communicate but promulgates his know- 



176 LETTERS OF LORD CHESTERFIELD 

ledge. He does not give it you but he inflicts it 
upon you ; and is (if possible) more desirous to 
show you your own ignorance than his own learning. 
Such manners as these not only in the particular 
instances which I have mentioned, but likewise in 
all others, shock and revolt that httle pride and 
vanity which every man has in his heart, and obli- 
terate in us the obligation for the favor conferred 
by reminding us of the motive which produced 
and the manner which accompanied it. 

These faults point out their opposite perfections, 
and your own good sense will naturally suggest 
them to you. 

But besides these lesser virtues, there are what 
may be called the lesser talents, or accomplishments, 
which are of great use to adorn and recommend all 
the greater; and the more so as all people are 
judges of the one and but few are of the other. 
Everybody feels the impression which an engaging 
address, an agreeable manner of speaking, and an 
easy politeness makes upon them ; and they pre- 
pare the way for the favorable reception of their 
betters. Adieu. 

XLVI. 

THE WRITER'S NOVITIATE. 

London, ya«. 11, o. s. 1750. 
My dear Friend,* — Yesterday I received a letter 
from Mr. Harte of the 31st December, n. s., which 

1 Lord Chesterfield uses this form of address in all the 
subsequent letters to his son. 



TO HIS SON. 177 

I will answer soon, and for which I desire you to 
return him my thanks now. He tells me two things 
that give me great satisfaction : one is, that there 
are very few English at Rome ; the other is, that 
you frequent the best foreign companies. This last 
is a very good symptom ; for a man of sense is 
never desirous to frequent those companies where 
he is not desirous to please or where he finds that 
he displeases. It will not be expected in those com- 
panies that at your age you should have the garbo, 
the disinvoltura, and the leggiadria of a man of five 
and twenty who has been long used to keep the 
best companies; and therefore do not be discour- 
aged and think yourself either slighted or laughed 
at, because you see others older and more used to 
the world easier, more familiar, and consequently 
rather better received in those companies than 
yourself. In time your turn will come ; and if you 
do but show an inclination, a desire to please, 
though you should be embarrassed or even err in 
the means which must necessarily happen to you at 
first, yet the will — to use a vulgar expression — will 
be taken for the deed ; and people instead of laugh- 
ing at you will be glad to instruct you. Good sense 
can only give you the great outlines of good breed- 
ing, but observation and usage can alone give you 
the dehcate touches and the fine coloring. You 
will naturally endeavor to show the utmost respect 
to people of certain ranks and characters, and con- 
sequently you will show it; but the proper, the 
delicate manner of showing that respect nothing 
but observation and time can give. 
12 



1/8 LETTERS OF LORD CHESTERFIELD 

I remember that when with all the awkwardness 
and rust of Cambridge about me, I was first intro- 
duced into good company, I was frightened out of 
my wits. I was determined to be what I thought 
civil ; I made fine low bows and placed myself below 
everybody ; but when I was spoken to or attempted 
to speak myself, Obstupui^ steteruntque comae el vox 
faucibus haesit If I saw people whisper, I was sure 
it was at me ; and I thought myself the sole object 
of either the ridicule or the censure of the whole 
company, who God knows did not trouble their 
heads about me. In this way I suffered for some 
time like a criminal at the bar, and should cer- 
tainly have renounced all polite company forever 
if I had not been so convinced of the absolute 
necessity of forming my manners upon those of the 
best companies that I determined to persevere, and 
suffer anything or everything rather than not compass 
that point. Insensibly it grew easier to me, and I 
began not to bow so ridiculously low and to answer 
questions without great hesitation or stammering ; if 
now and then some charitable people seeing my em- 
barrassment and being desosuvr^ themselves came 
and spoke to me, I considered them as angels sent 
to comfort me, and that gave me a little courage. I 
got more soon afterwards and was intrepid enough 
to go up to a fine woman and tell her that I 
thought it a warm day. She answered me very 
civilly that she thought so too ; upon which the 
conversation ceased on my part for some time, till 
she good-naturedly resuming it spoke to me thus : 
" I see your embarrassment, and I am sure that the 



TO HIS SON. I'jg 

few words you said to me cost you a great deal ; but 
do not be discouraged for that reason and avoid good 
company. We see that you desire to please, and 
that is the main point ; you want only the manner, 
and you think that you want it still more than you 
do. You must go through your novitiate before 
you can profess good breeding , and if you will be 
my novice I will present you to my acquaintance 
as such." 

You will easily imagine how much this speech 
pleased me and how awkwardly I answered it. I 
hemmed once or twice (for it gave me a burr in my 
throat) before I could tell her that I was very much 
obliged to her ; that it was true that I had a great 
deal of reason to distrust my own behavior, not 
being used to fine company; and that I should 
be proud of being her novice and receiving her 
instructions. 

As soon as I had fumbled out this answer, she 
called up three or four people to her and said, 
"Do you know that I have undertaken this young 
man and that he must be encouraged? As for me 
I think I have made a conquest of him, for he 
just now ventured to tell me, although tremblingly, 
that it is warm. You will assist me in poHshing 
him.". . . 

The company laughed at this lecture, and I was 
stunned with it. I did not know whether she was 
serious or in jest. By turns I was pleased, ashamed, 
encouraged, and dejected. But when I found after- 
wards that both she and those to whom she had 
presented me countenanced and protected me in 



l8o LETTERS OF LORD CHESTERFIELD 

company, I gradually got more assurance, and be- 
gan not to be ashamed of endeavoring to be civil. 
I copied the best masters, at first servilely, after- 
wards more freely, and at last I joined habit and 
invention. 



XLVIL 

TO ACQUIRE THE GRACES AND ACCOMPLISHMENTS, 
STUDY THE BEST MODELS. — A LIST OF THE 
GRACES. 

London, ya«. i8, o. s. 1750. 
My DEAR Friend, — I consider the solid part of 
your little edifice as so near being finished and com- 
pleted that my only remaining care is about the 
embellishments ; and that must now be your princi- 
pal care too. Adorn yourself with all those graces 
and accomplishments which without solidity are 
frivolous, but without which solidity is to a great 
degree useless. Take one man with a very moder- 
ate degree of knowledge, but with a pleasing figure, 
a prepossessing address, graceful in all that he says 
and does, polite, liant, and in short, adorned with 
all the lesser talents ; and take another man, with 
sound sense and profound knowledge, but without 
the above-mentioned advantages : the former will 
not only get the better of the latter in every pursuit 
of every kind, but in truth there will be no sort of 
competition between them. But can every man ac- 
quire these advantages ? I say, Yes, if he please ; 
suppose he is in a situation and in circumstances to 



TO HIS SON, l8l 

frequent good company. Attention, observation, 
and imitation will most infallibly do it. When you 
see a man whose first abord strikes you, prepossesses 
you in his favor, and makes you entertain a good 
opinion of him, you do not know why, analyze that 
abo7'd and examine within yourself the several parts 
that compose it, and you will generally find it to be 
the result, the happy assemblage, of modesty unem- 
barrassed, respect without timidity, a genteel but 
unaffected attitude of body and limbs, an open, 
cheerful, but unsmirking countenance, and a dress 
by no means negligent, and yet not foppish. Copy 
him then not servilely, but as some of the greatest 
masters of painting have copied others, — insomuch 
that their copies have been equal to the originals 
both as to beauty and freedom. When you see a 
man who is universally allowed to shine as an agree- 
able well-bred man, and a fine gentleman (as for 
example, the Duke de Nivernois), attend to him, 
watch him carefully; observe in what manner he 
addresses himself to his superiors, how he lives with 
his equals, and how he treats his inferiors. Mind 
his turn of conversation in the several situations of 
morning visits, the table, and the evening amuse- 
ments. Imitate without mimicking him ; and be his 
duplicate, but not his ape. You will find that he 
takes care never to say or do anything that can be 
construed into a sHght or a negligence, or that can 
in any degree mortify people's vanity and self-love ; 
on the contrary you will perceive that he makes peo- 
ple pleased with him by making them first pleased 
with themselves \ he^shpws respect, regard, esteem, 



1 82 LETTERS OF LORD CHESTERFIELD 

and attention, where they are severally proper ; he 
sows them with care, and he reaps them in plenty. 

These amiable accomplishments are all to be ac- 
quired by use and imitation; for we are in truth 
more than half what we are by imitation. The 
great point is to choose good models, and to study 
them with care. People insensibly contract not 
only the air, the manners, and the vices, of those 
with whom they commonly converse, but their vir- 
tues too, and even their way of thinking. This is 
so true that I have known very plain understandings 
catch a certain degree of wit by constantly convers- 
ing with those who had a great deal. Persist there- 
fore in keeping the best company, and you will 
insensibly become like them ; but if you add atten- 
tion and observation, you will very soon become 
one of them. The inevitable contagion of company 
shows you the necessity of keeping the best and 
avoiding all other ; for in every one something will 
stick. You have hitherto, I confess, had very few 
opportunities of keeping polite company. West- 
minster school is undoubtedly the seat of illiberal 
manners and brutal behavior; Leipsig, I suppose, 
is not the seat of refined and elegant manners ; 
Venice, I believe, has done something; Rome, I 
hope, will do a great deal more ; and Paris will, I 
dare say, do all that you want, — always supposing 
that you frequent the best companies and in the 
intention of improving and forming yourself, for 
without that intention nothing will do. 

I here subjoin a list of all those necessary orna- 
mental accomplishments (without which no man 



TO HIS son: 183 

living can either please or rise in the world) which 
hitherto I fear you want, and which only require 
your care and attention to possess, — 

To speak elegantly whatever language you speak 
in, without which nobody will hear you with pleas- 
ure, and consequently you will speak to very little 
purpose. 

An agreeable and distinct elocution, without 
which nobody will hear you with patience. This 
everybody may acquire, who is not born with some 
imperfection in the organs of speech. You are not, 
and therefore it is wholly in your power. You need 
take much less pains for it than Demosthenes did. 

A distinguished poHteness of manners and ad- 
dress, which common-sense, observation, good com- 
pany, and imitation will infallibly give you if you 
will accept it. 

A genteel carriage and graceful motions, with the 
air of a man of fashion. A good dancing-master, 
with some care on your part and some imitation of 
those who excel, will soon bring this about. 

To be extremely clean in your person, and per- 
fectly well dressed, according to the fashion, be that 
what it will. Your negligence of your dress while 
you were a school-boy was pardonable, but would 
not be so now. 

Upon the whole, take it for granted that without 
these accomplishments all you know and all you 
can do will avail you very little. Adieu. 



1 84 LETTERS OF LORD CHESTERFIELD 



XLVIII. 

IMPORTANCE OF THE MORAL VIRTUES. — WARNING 
AGAINST VANITY. 

London, May 17, o. s. 1750. 
My DEAR Friend, — Your apprenticeship is near 
out, and you are soon to set up for yourself; that 
approaching moment is a critical one for you, and 
an anxious one for me. A tradesman who would 
succeed in his way must begin by establishing a 
character of integrity and good manners : without 
the former, nobody will go to his shop at all ; with- 
out the latter, nobody will go there twice. This 
rule does not exclude the fair arts of trade. He 
may sell his goods at the best price he can, within 
certain bounds. He may avail himself of the hu- 
mor, the whims, and the fantastical tastes of his 
customers ; but what he warrants to be good must 
be really so, what he seriously asserts must be true, 
or his first fraudulent profits will soon end in a 
bankruptcy. It is the same in higher life and in 
the great business of the world. A man who does 
not soUdly establish, and really deserve, a character 
of truth, probity, good manners, and good morals 
at his first setting out in the world, may impose 
and shine like a meteor for a very short time, but 
will very soon vanish, and be extinguished with 
contempt. People easily pardon in young men 
the common irregularities of the senses ; but they 
do not forgive the least vice of the heart. The 



TO HIS SON. 185 

heart never grows better by age ; I fear rather 
worse ; always harder. A young Har will be an old ^ 
one, and a young knave will only be a greater 
knave as he grows older. But should a bad young 
heart, accompanied with a good head (which by 
the way very seldom is the case), really reform in a 
more advanced age, from a consciousness of its 
folly, as well as of its guilt, such a conversion 
would only be thought prudential and political, but 
never sincere. I hope in God, and I verily believe, 
that you want no moral virtue. But the possession 
of all the moral virtues in actu primo, as the logi- 
cians call it, is not sufficient ; you must have them 
in actu secundo too ; nay, that is not sufficient 
neither, you must have the reputation of them also. 
Your character in the world must be built upon that 
solid foundation, or it will soon fall, and upon your 
own head. You cannot therefore be too careful, 
too nice, too scrupulous, in estabUshing this charac- 
ter at first, upon which your whole career depends. 
Let no conversation, no example, no fashion, no bon 
mot, no silly desire of seeming to be above what 
most knaves and many fools call prejudices, ever 
tempt you to avow, excuse, extenuate, or laugh at 
the least breach of morality; but show upon all 
occasions, and take all occasions to show, a detesta- 
tion and abhorrence of it. There, though young, 
you ought to be strict ; and there only, while young, 
it becomes you to be strict and severe. But there 
too, spare the persons while you lash the crimes. 
All this relates, as you easily judge, to the vices of 
the heart, such as lying, fraud, envy, maHce, detrac- 



1 86 LETTERS OF LORD CHESTERFIELD 

tion, etc., and I do not extend it to the little frail- 
ties of youth flowing from high spirits and warm 
blood. It would ill become you at your age to 
declaim against them, and sententiously censure an 
accidental excess of the table, a frolic, an inadver- 
tency ; no, keep as free from them yourself as you 
can, but say nothing against them in others. They 
certainly mend by time, often by reason ; and a 
man's worldly character is not affected by them, 
provided it be pure in all other respects. 

To come now to a point of much less but yet of 
very great consequence at your first setting out. 
Be extremely upon your guard against vanity, the 
common failing of inexperienced youth ; but partic- 
ularly against that kind of vanity that dubs a man a 
coxcomb, — a character which, once acquired, is 
more indelible than that of the priesthood. It is not 
to be imagined by how many different ways vanity 
defeats its own purposes. Some men decide per- 
emptorily upon every subject, betray their ignorance 
upon many, and show a disgusting presumption 
upon the rest. . . . Others flatter their vanity by lit- 
tle extraneous objects, which have not the least rela- 
tion to themselves, — such as being descended from, 
related to, or acquainted with people of distin- 
guished merit and eminent characters. They talk 
perpetually of their grandfather such-a-one, their 
uncle such-a-one and their intimate friend Mr. 
Such-a-one, with whom possibly they are hardly 
acquainted. But admitting it all to be as they 
would have it, what then? Have they the more 
merit for those accidents ? Certainly not. On the 



TO HIS SON. 187 

contrary, their taking up adventitious proves theii 
want of intrinsic merit ; a rich man never borrows. 
Take this rule for granted, as a never-faiUng one, — ■ 
that you must never seem to affect the character 
in which you have a mind to shine. Modesty is 
the only sure bait when you angle for praise. The 
affectation of courage will make even a brave man 
pass only for a bully, as the affectation of wit will 
make a man of parts pass for a coxcomb. By this 
modesty I do not mean timidity and awkward bash- 
fulness. On the contrary, be inwardly firm and 
steady, know your own value whatever it may be, 
and act upon that principle ; but take great care to 
let nobody discover that you do know your own 
value. Whatever real merit you have, other people 
will discover, and people always magnify their own 
discoveries, as they lessen those of others. 



XLIX. 

HOW TO READ HISTORY, AND HOW TO CONVERSE 
WITH ADVANTAGE. — A MODEST ASSURANCE. 

London, Nov. i, o. s. 1750. 
My dear Friend, — ... While you are in 
France, I could wish that the hours you allot for 
historical amusement should be entirely devoted to 
the history of France. One always reads history to 
most advantage in that country to which it is rela- 
tive, — not only books but persons being ever at 
hand to solve doubts and clear up difficulties. I do 
by no means advise you to throw away your time in 



1 88 LETTERS OF LORD CHESTERFIELD 

ransacking, like a dull antiquarian, the minute and 
unimportant parts of remote and fabulous times. 
Let blockheads read what blockheads wrote. 

Conversation in France, if you have the address 
and dexterity to turn it upon useful subjects, will 
exceedingly improve your historical knowledge, for 
people there, however classically ignorant they may 
be, think it a shame to be ignorant of the history of 
their own country; they read that, if they read 
nothing else, and having often read nothing else 
are proud of having read that, and talk of it will- 
ingly; even the women are well instructed in that 
sort of reading. I am far from meaning by this 
that you should always be talking wisely in company 
of books, history, and matters of knowledge. There 
are many companies which you will and ought to 
keep, where such conversations would be misplaced 
and ill-timed. Your own good sense must distin- 
guish the company and the time. You must trifle 
only with triflers and be serious only with the 
serious, but dance to those who pipe. " Cur in 
theatrum Cato severe venisti? " was justly said to an 
old man ; how much more so would it be to one of 
your age ! From the moment that you are dressed 
and go out, pocket all your knowledge with your 
watch, and never pull it out in company unless de- 
sired ; the producing of the one unasked implies 
that you are weary of the company, and the pro- 
ducing of the other unrequired will make the com- 
pany weary of you. Company is a republic too 
jealous of its liberties to suffer a dictator even for a 



TO HIS SON. 189 

quarter of an hour, and yet in that, as in all repub- 
lics, there are some few who really govern; but 
then it is by seeming to disclaim, instead of at- 
tempting to usurp the power. That is the occasion 
in which manners, dexterity, address, and the unde- 
finable je ne sais quoi triumph ; if properly exerted 
their conquest is sure, and the more lasting for not 
being perceived. Remember that this is not only 
your first and greatest, but ought to be almost your 
only object, while you are in France. 

I know that many of your countrymen are apt to 
call the freedom and vivacity of the French petu- 
lancy and ill breeding ; but should you think so, I 
desire upon many accounts that you will not say so. 
I admit that it may be so in some instances of 
petits maitres etourdis, and in some young people 
unbroken to the world; but I can assure you that 
you will find it much otherwise with people of a 
certain rank and age, upon whose model you will do 
very well to form yourself. We call their steady 
assurance, impudence. Why? Only because what 
we call modesty is awkward bashfulness and 7nau- 
vaise honte. For my part I see no impudence, but 
on the contrary infinite utility and advantage, in 
presenting one's self with the same coolness and 
unconcern in any and every company ; till one can 
do that, I am very sure that one can never present 
one's self well. Whatever is done under concern 
and embarrassment, must be ill done ; and till a 
man is absolutely easy and unconcerned in every 
company he will never be thought to have kept 
-good, nor be very welcome in it. A steady assur- 



1 90 LETTERS OF LORD CHESTERFIELD 

ance with seeming modesty is possibly the most 
useful qualification that a man can have in every 
part of life. A man would certainly make a very 
considerable fortune and figure in the world, whose 
modesty and timidity should often, as bashfulness 
always does, put him in the deplorable and lament- 
able situation of the pious y^neas, when obstupuit^ 
steteruntque comcBy et vox faucibus hc&sit. Fortune, 



born to be controlled, 



Stoops to the forward and the bold." 

Assurance and intrepidity, under the white banner 
of seeming modesty, clear the way for merit, that 
would otherwise be discouraged by difficulties in its 
journey ; whereas barefaced impudence is the noisy 
and blustering harbinger of a worthless and sense- 
less usurper. 

You will think that I shall never have done 
recommending to you these exterior worldly ac- 
complishments, and you will think right, for I never 
shall. They are of too great consequence to you for 
me to be indifferent or negligent about them ; the 
shining part of your future figure and fortune de- 
pends now wholly upon them. These are the ac- 
quisitions which must give efficacy and success to 
those you have already made. To have it said and 
beheved that you are the most learned man in Eng- 
land would be no more than was said and believed 
of Dr. Bentley ; but to have it said at the same time 
that you are also the best bred, most polite, and 
agreeable man in the kingdom, would be such a 
happy composition of a character as I never yet 



TO HIS SON. 191 

knew any one man deserve, and which I will en- 
deavor as well as ardently wish that you may. Ab- 
solute perfection is I well know unattainable ; but I 
know too that a man of parts may be unweariedly 
aiming at it, and arrive pretty near it. Try, labor, 
persevere. Adieu. 



L. 



GOOD MANNERS THE SOURCE OF ESTEEM.- SUPPOSED 
ALLUSION TO DR. JOHNSON. 

London, Feb. 28, o. s. 1751. 

My dk\r Friend, — This epigram in Martial, 

Non amo te, Sabidi, nee possum dicere quare, 
Hoc tantuin possum dicere, non amo te ; ^ 

has puzzled a great many people who cannot con- 
ceive how it is possible not to love anybody and 
yet not to know the reason why. I think I con- 
ceive Martial's meaning very clearly, though the 
nature of epigram, which is to be short, would not 
allow him to explain it more fully ; and I take it to 
be this : O Sabidis, you are a very worthy, deserving 
man ; you have a thousand good qualities, you have 
a great deal of learning j I esteem, I respect, but 
for the soul of me I cannot love you, though I can- 
not particularly say why. You are not a^mabie ; 
you have not those engaging manners, those pleas- 
ing attentions, those graces, and that address, which 

1 Recalling, — 

" I do not love thee, Dr. Fell, the reason why I cannot tell. 

But this I know and know full well, I do not love thee. Dr. FeU.** 



192 LETTERS OF LORD CHESTERFIELD 

are absolutely necessary to please though impossible 
to define. I cannot say it is this or that particular 
thing that hinders me from loving you, — it is the 
whole together; and upon the whole you are not 
agreeable. 

How often have I in the course of my life found 
myself in this situation with regard to many of my 
acquaintance whom I have honored and respected 
without being able to love. I did not know why, 
because when one is young one does not take the 
trouble nor allow one's self the time to analyze one's 
sentiments and to trace them up to their source. 
But subsequent observation and reflection have 
taught me why. There is a man whose moral 
character, deep learning, and superior parts, I ac- 
knowledge, admire, and respect ; but whom it is so 
impossible for me to love, that I am almost in a 
fever whenever I am in his company. His figure 
(without being deformed) seems made to disgrace 
or ridicule the common structure of the human 
body. His legs and arms are never in the position 
which according to the situation of his body they 
ought to be in, but constantly employed in com- 
mitting acts of hostility upon the Graces. He 
throws an)^here but down his throat whatever he 
means to drink, and only mangles what he means 
to carve. Inattentive to all the regards of social 
life, he mis-times or misplaces everything. He 
disputes with heat, and indiscriminately, mindless of 
the rank, character, and situation of those with 
whom he disputes ; absolutely ignorant of the sev- 
eral gradations of famiharity or respect, he is 



TO HIS SON. 193 

exactly the same to his superiors, his equals, and 
his inferiors, and therefore, by a necessary conse- 
quence absurd to two of the three. Is it possible to 
love such a man? No. The utmost I can do for 
him is to consider him as a respectable Hottentot. 1 



LI. 



SUAVITER IN MODO, FOR TITER IN RE. 

[No Dale]. 
My dear Friend, — I mentioned to you some 
time ago, a sentence, which I would most earnestly 
wish you always to retain in your thoughts and 
observe in your conduct. It is Suaviter in modo, 
fortiter in re. I do not know any one rule so un- 
exceptionably useful and necessary in every part of 
life. I shall therefore take it for my text to-day ; 
and as old men love preaching, and I have some 
right to preach to you, I here present you with my 
sermon upon these words. To proceed then regu- 
larly and pulpiticaU}\ I will first show you, my 

1 Lord Chesterfield probably alludes to Dr. Johnson in 
this passage. Boswell had no doubt of it, and says : — "I 
have heard Johnson himself talk of the character, and say 
that it was meant for Lord George Lyttelton, in which I 
could by no means agree ; for his Lordship had nothing of 
that violence which is a conspicuous feature in the composi- 
tion. Finding that my illustrious friend could bear to have 
it supposed that it might be meant for him, I said laughingly 
that there was one trait which did not belong to him, — he 
throws meat everywhere but down his own throat. * Sir,' said 
he, * Lord Chesterfield never saw me eat in his life ! * " 
13 



194 LETTERS OF LORD CHESTERFIELD 

beloved, the necessary connection of the two mem- 
bers of my text, — suaviter in modo ; fortiter in re. 
In the next place, I shall set forth the advantages 
and utility resulting from a strict observance of the 
precept contained in my text ; and conclude with 
an application of the whole. The suaviter in modo 
alone would degenerate and sink into a mean, 
timid complaisance and passiveness, if not sup- 
ported and dignified by the fo7'titer in re, which 
would also run into impetuosity and brutality, if 
not tempered and softened by the suaviter in modo ; 
however, they are seldom united. The warm, chol- 
eric man with strong animal spirits despises the 
stiaviter in modo, and thinks to carry all before 
him by the fortiter in re. He may possibly, by 
great accident, now and then succeed, when he 
has only weak and timid people to deal with ; but 
his general fate will be to shock, offend, be hated, 
and fail. On the other hand, the cunning, crafty 
man thinks to gain all his ends by the suaviter in 
7nodo only ; he becomes alt things to all men ; he 
seems to have no opinion of his own, and servilely 
adopts the present opinion of the present person -, 
he insinuates himself only into the esteem of fools, 
but is soon detected, and surely despised by every- 
body else. The wise man (who differs as much 
from the cunning as from the choleric man) alone 
joins the suaviter in modo with the fortiter in re. 
Now to the advantages arising from the strict ob- 
servance of this precept. If you are in authority 
and have a right to command, your commands 
delivered sudviter in modo will be willingly, cheer- 



TO HIS SON. 195 

fully, and consequently well obeyed; whereas, if 
given only fortiter, that is brutally, they will rather, 
as Tacitus says, be interrupted than executed. For 
my own part, if I bid my footman bring me a glass 
of wine in a rough insulting manner, I should ex- 
pect that in obeying me he would contrive to spill 
some of it upon me, and I am sure I should deserve 
it. A cool, steady resolution should show that 
where you have a right to command you will be 
obeyed, but at the same time a gentleness in the 
manner of enforcing that obedience should make 
it a cheerful one, and soften as much as possible 
the mortifying consciousness of inferiority. If you 
are to ask a favor or even to solicit your due you 
must do it suaviter in modo or you will give those 
who have a mind to refuse you either, a pretence to 
do it by resenting the manner; but on the other 
hand you must by a steady perseverance and decent 
tenaciousness show the fortiter in re. The right 
motives are seldom the true ones of men's actions, 
— especially of kings, ministers, and people in high 
stations, who often give to importunity and fear 
what they would refuse to justice or to merit. By 
the suaviter in modo engage their hearts if you can ; 
at least prevent the pretence of offence : but take 
care to show enough of the fortiter in re to extort 
from their love of ease or their fear what you might 
in vain hope for from their justice or good nature. 
People in high life are hardened to the wants and 
distresses of mankind as surgeons are to their bod- 
ily pains; they see and hear of them all day long 
and even of so many simulated ones that they do 



196 LETTERS OF LORD CHESTERFIELD 

not know which are real and which not. Other sen- 
timents are therefore to be appHed to than those of 
mere justice and humanity. Their favor must be 
captivated by the suaviter in modo \ their love of 
ease disturbed by unwearied importunity ; or their 
fears wrought upon by a decent intimation of im- 
placable cool resentment, — this is the true fortiter 
in re. This precept is the only way I know in the 
world of being loved without being despised and 
feared without being hated. It constitutes the dig- 
nity of character which every wise man must en- 
deavor to estabhsh. 

Now to apply what has been said and so 
conclude. 

If you find that you have a hastiness in your 
temper which unguardedly breaks out into indis- 
creet sallies or rough expressions to either your 
superiors, your equals, or your inferiors, watch it 
narrowly, check it carefully, and call the suaviter in 
modo to your assistance ; at the first impulse of pas- 
sion, be silent till you can be soft. Labor even to 
get the command of your countenance so well 
that those emotions may not be read in it, — a most 
unspeakable advantage in business. On the other 
hand, let no complaisance, no gentleness of temper, 
no weak desire of pleasing on your part, no whee- 
dling, coaxing, nor flattery on other people's, make 
you recede one jot from any point that reason and 
prudence have bid you pursue ; but return to the 
charge, persist, persevere, and you will find most 
things attainable that are possible. A yielding, 
timid meekness is always abused and insulted by 



TO HIS SON. 197 

the unjust and the unfeeling, but when sustained 
by thtfortiter in re is ahvays respected, commonly 
successful. In your friendships and connections, 
as well as in your enmities, this rule is particularly 
useful : let your firmness and vigor preserve and 
invite attachments to you, but at the same time 
let your manner hinder the enemies of your friends 
and dependants from becoming yours ; let your 
enemies be disarmed by the gentleness of your 
manner, but let them feel at the same time the 
steadiness of your just resentment, — for there is a 
great difference between bearing malice, which is 
always ungenerous, and a resolute self-defence, which 
is always prudent and justifiable. In negotiations 
with foreign ministers remember the fortiter in re ; 
give up no point, accept of no expedient, till the 
utmost necessity reduces you to it, and even then 
dispute the ground inch by inch; but then while 
you are contending with the minister fortiter in ?'e, 
remember to gain the man by the stiaviter in modo. 
If you engage his heart, you have a fair chance for 
imposing upon his understanding and determining 
his will. Tell him in a frank gallant manner that 
your ministerial wrangles do not lessen your per- 
sonal regard for his merit, but that on the contrary 
his zeal and ability in the service of his master 
increase it, and that of all things you desire to make 
a good friend of so good a servant. By these means 
you may and will very often be a gainer ; you never 
can be a loser. Some people cannot gain upon 
themselves to be easy and civil to those who are 
either their rivals, competitors, or opposers, though. 



198 LETTERS OF LORD CHESTERFIELD 

independently of those accidental circumstances, 
they would like and esteem them. They betray 
a shyness and an awkwardness in company with 
them and catch at any little thing to expose them, 
and so from temporary and only occasional oppo- 
nents make them their personal enemies. This is 
exceedingly weak and detrimental, as indeed is all 
humor in business, which can only be carried on 
successfully by unadulterated good policy and right 
reasoning. In such situations I would be more 
particularly and noblement civil, easy, and frank with 
the man whose designs I traversed. This is com- 
monly called generosity and magnanimity but is in 
truth good sense and policy. The manner is often 
as important as the matter, sometimes more so. A 
favor may make an enemy and an injury may make 
a friend according to the different manner in which 
they are severally done. The countenance, the 
address, the words, the enunciation, the Graces add 
great efficacy to the suaviter in modo and great 
dignity to the fortiter ifi re ; and consequently they 
deserve the utmost attention. 

From what has been said, I conclude with this 
observation, — that gentleness of manners with firm- 
ness of mind is a short but full description of human 
perfection on this side of religious and moral duties. 
That you may be seriously convinced of this truth 
and show it in your life and conversation, is the 
most sincere and ardent wish of, 
Yours. 



TO HIS SON. 199. 



LII. 



LES BIENSEANCES.—TYLY. PROPER DEMEANOR WITH 
ONE'S SUPERIORS, IN MIXED COMPANIES, AND 
WITH ONE'S INFERIORS. 

Greenwich, yzm^ 13, o. s. 17 51. 

My dear Friend, — Les bie7iseances •■■ are a most 
necessary part of the knowledge of the world. 
They consist in the relations of persons, things, 
time, and place ; good sense points them out, good 
company perfects them (supposing always an atten- 
tion and a desire to please), and good policy 
recommends them. 

Were you to converse with a king, you ought to 
be as easy and unembarrassed as with your own 
valet de chamb7'e \ but yet, every look, word, and 
action should imply the utmost respect. What 
would be proper and well bred with others much 
your superiors would be absurd and ill bred with 
one so very much so. You must wait till you are 
spoken to ; you must receive not give the subject 
of conversation ; and you must even take care that 
the given subject of such conversation do not lead 
you into any impropriety. The art would be to 
carry it, if possible, to some indirect flattery, — such 
as commending those virtues in some other person 
in which that prince either thinks he does, or at 
least would be thought by others to excel. Almost 
the same precautions are necessary to be used with 
ministers, generals, etc., who expect to be treated 
1 Good breeding ; decorum ; propriety. 



200 LETTERS OF LORD CHESTERFIELD 

with very near the same respect as their masters, 
and commonly deserve it better. There is, how- 
ever, this difference, that one may begin the con- 
versation with them, if on their side it should hap- 
pen to drop, provided one does not carry it to any 
subject upon which it is improper either for them 
to speak or be spoken to. In these two cases 
certain attitudes and actions would be extremely 
absurd, because too easy and consequently disre- 
spectful. As for instance if you were to put your 
arms across in your bosom, twirl your snuff-box, 
trample with your feet, scratch your head, etc., it 
would be shockingly ill bred in that company ; and 
indeed not extremely well bred in any other. The 
great difficulty in those cases, though a very sur- 
mountable one by attention and custom, is to join 
perfect inward ease with perfect outward respect. 

In mixed companies with your equals (for in 
mixed companies all people are to a certain degree 
equal), greater ease and liberty are allowed; but 
they too have their bounds within biens'eance. There 
is a social respect necessary : you may start your 
own subject of conversation with modesty, taking 
great care, however, "de ne jamais parler de cordes 
dans la maison d'un pendu." ^ Your words, gestures, 
and attitudes have a greater degree of latitude, 
though by no means an unbounded one. You may 
have your hands in your pockets, take snuff, sit, 
stand, or occasionally walk, as you like ; but I 
believe you would not think it very biensiant to 

1 Never to mention a rope in the family of a man who 
has been hanged. 



TO HIS SON. 20 1 

whistle, put on your hat, loosen your garters or your 
buckles, lie down upon a couch, or go to bed, and 
welter in an easy-chair. These are negligences and 
freedoms which one can only take when quite alone ; 
they are injurious to superiors, shocking and offen- 
sive to equals, brutal and insulting to inferiors. 
That easiness of carriage and behavior which is 
exceedingly engaging widely differs from negligence 
and inattention, and by no means implies that one 
may do whatever one pleases, — it only means that 
one is not to be stiff, formal, embarrassed, discon- 
certed, and ashamed, like country bumpkins and 
people who have never been in good company; 
but it requires great attention to and a scrupulous 
observation of les bienseances. Whatever one ought 
to do is to be done with ease and unconcern ; 
whatever is improper must not be done at all. In 
mixed companies also, different ages and sexes are 
to be differently addressed. You would not talk of 
your pleasures to men of a certain age, gravity, and 
dignity ; they justly expect from young people a 
degree of deference and regard. You should be 
full as easy with them as with people of your own 
years, but your manner must be different ; more 
respect must be implied ; and it is not amiss to 
insinuate that from them you expect to learn. It 
flatters and comforts age for not being able to take 
a part in the joy and titter of youth. To women 
you should always address yourself with great out- 
ward respect and attention, whatever you feel in- 
wardly. Their sex is by long prescription entitled 
to it ; and it is among the duties of bienseaiice. At 



202 LETTERS OF LORD CHESTERFLELD 

the same time that respect is very properly and 
very agreeably mixed with a degree of enjouement 
if you have it : but then, that badinage must either 
directly or indirectly tend to their praise, and even 
not be liable to a malicious construction to their 
disadvantage. But here, too, great attention must 
be had to the difference of age, rank, and situation. 
A Marechale of fifty must not be played with hke a 
young coquette of fifteen ; respect and serious en- 
joiteinent, if I may couple those two words, must 
be used with the former, and mere badinage^ zeste 
meme dhin peu de polissonerie is pardonable with 
the latter. 

Another important point of les bienseances^ seldom 
enough attended to, is not to run your own present 
humor and disposition indiscriminately against every- 
body ; but to observe, conform to, and adopt theirs. 
For example, if you happened to be in high good- 
humor and a flow of spirits, would you go and sing 
a pont nenf^ or cut a caper to la Marechale de 
Coigny, the Pope's Nuncio, or Abbe SaUier, or to any 
person of natural gravity and melancholy, or who 
at that time should be in grief? I believe not ; 
as on the other hand, I suppose that if you were 
in low spirits or real grief, you would not choose 
to bewail your situation with /a petite Blot. If you 
cannot command your present humor and disposi- 
tion, single out those to converse with who happen 
to be in the humor the nearest to your own. 

Loud laughter is extremely inconsistent with les 
biens/ancesj as it is only the illiberal and noisy testi- 
1 Ballad. 



TO HIS SON. 203 

mony of the joy of the mob at some very silly thing. 
A gentleman is often seen but very seldom heard to 
laugh. Nothing is more contrary to les bienseances 
than horse-play, or jeux de main of any kind what- 
ever, and has often very serious, sometimes very 
fatal consequences. Romping, struggling, throwing 
things at one another's head, are the becoming 
pleasantries of the mob, but degrade a gentleman ; 
Giuoco di viajio, giuoco di villano is a very true say- 
ing, among the few true sayings of the Italians. 

Peremptoriness and decision in young people is 
contraire aux die?iseances, and they should seldom 
seem to assert, and always use some softening, 
mitigating expression, — such as, s^ilin'est pennis de 
le dire ; je croirois plutot ; si J^ose m'' expliquer, 
which soften the manner without giving up or even 
weakening the thing. People of more age and ex- 
perience expect and are entitled to that degree of 
deference. 

There is a bienseance also with regard to people 
of the lowest degree ; a gentleman observes it with 
his footman, even with the beggar in the street. He 
considers them as objects of compassion, not of 
insult ; he speaks to neither d'uri ton brusque, but 
corrects the one coolly, and refuses the other with 
humanity. There is no one occasion in the world 
in which le ton brusque is becoming a gentleman. 
In short, ks bienseances are another word for 7na7i- 
ners, and extend to every part of life. They are 
propriety; the Graces should attend, in order to 
complete them. The Graces enable us to do, gen-* 
teelly and pleasingly, what les bienseances require 



204 LETTERS OF LORD CHESTERFIELD 

to be done at all. The latter are an obligation 
upon every man ; the former are an infinite advan- 
tage and ornament to any man. May you unite 
both ! 



LIII. 

THE GRACES, -THE WRITER'S EARLY DEFECTS.— 
DRESS. 

London, Jum 24, o. s. 1751. 
My de-\r Friend, — Air, address, manners, and 
graces are of such infinite advantage to whoever 
has them, and so peculiarly and essentially neces- 
sary for you, that now as the time of our meeting 
draws near I tremble for fear I should not find you 
possessed of them ; and to tell you the tnith, 1 
doubt you are not yet sufficiently convinced of their 
importance. There is, for instance, your intimate 
friend Mr. H[ayes], who with great merit, deep 
knowledge, and a thousand good qualities will 
never make a figure in the world while he lives. 
Why ? Merely for want of those external and show- 
ish accompHshments which he began the world too 
late to acquire, and which with his studious and 
philosophical turn, I believe he thinks are not worth 
his attention. He may very probably make a fig- 
ure in the republic of letters ; but he had ten thou- 
sand times better make a figure as a man of the 
world and of business in the republic of the United 
Provinces, which, take my word for it, he never will. 



TO HIS SON. 205 

As I open myself without the least reserve when- 
ever I think that my doing so can be of any use to 
you, I will give you a short account of myself when 
I first came into the world, which was at the age 
you are of now, so that, by the v/ay, you have got 
the start of me in that important article by two ot 
three years at least. At nineteen, I left the Uni- 
versit}' of Cambridge, where I was an absolute' 
pedant. When I talked my best, I quoted Horace ; 
when I aimed at being facetious, I quoted ^Martial 
and when I had a mind to be a fine gentleman, 1 
talked Ovid. I was convinced that none but the 
ancients had common-sense ; that the classics con- 
tained everything that was either necessary, useful, 
or ornamental to men: and I was not without 
thoughts of wearing the toga virilis of the Romans 
instead of the \nilgar and illiberal dress of the 
modems.-^ With these excellent notions, I went 
first to the Hague, where, by the help of several 
letters of recommendation, I was soon introduced 
into all the best company, and where I very soon 
discovered that I was totally mistaken in almost 
every one notion I had entertained. Fortunately, 
I had a strong desire to please (the mixed result 
of good-nature and a vanity by no means blame- 
able) and was sensible that I had nothing but the 
desire. I therefore resolved, if possible, to acquire 
the means too. I studied attentively and minutely 

1 " Yet there is reason to suspect that this was not the real 
fact with himself, but only an encouraging example held 
forth to his son to show him how pedantry may be success- 
fullv surmounted." (Lord Mahon.) 



206 LETTERS OF LORD CHESTERFIELD 

the dress, the air, the manner, the address, and the 
turn of conversation of all those whom I found to 
be the people in fashion and most generally allowed 
to please. I imitated them as well as I could ; if 
I heard that one man was reckoned remarkably 
genteel, I carefully watched his dress, motions, and 
attitudes, and formed my own upon them. When 
I heard of another whose conversation was agree- 
able and engaging, I Hstened and attended to the 
turn of it. I addressed myself, though de ires mau- 
vaise grace, to all the most fashionable fine ladies ; 
confessed, and laughed with them at my own awk- 
wardness and rawness, recommending myself as an 
object for them to try their skill in forming. By 
these means, and with a passionate desire of pleas- 
ing everybody, I came by degrees to please some ; 
and I can assure you that what little figure I have 
made in the world has been much more owing to 
that passionate desire of pleasing universally than 
to any intrinsic merit or sound knowledge I might 
ever have been master of. My passion for pleasing 
was so strong (and I am very glad it was so) that 
I own to you fairly, I wished to make every woman 
I saw in love with me and every man I met with 
admire me. Without this passion for the object, 
I should never have been so attentive to the means ; 
and I own I cannot conceive how it is possible 
for any man of good nature and good sense to be 
without this passion. Does not good nature incline 
us to please all those we converse with, of whatever 
rank or station they may be ? And does not good 
sense and common observation show of what in- 



TO HIS SON. 207 

finite use it is to please ? Oh ! but one may please 
by the good qualities of the heart and the know- 
ledge of the head, without that fashionable air, 
address, and manner, which is mere tinsel. I deny 
it. A man may be esteemed and respected, but 
I defy him to please without them. Moreover, at 
your age I would not have contented myself with 
barely pleasing; I wanted to shine and to distin- 
guish myself in the world as a man of fashion and 
gallantry, as well as business. And that ambition 
or vanity, call it what you please, was a right one ; 
it hurt nobody, and made me exert whatever talents 
I had. It is the spring of a thousand right and 
good things. 

I was talking you over the other day with one 
very much your friend, and who had often been 
with you, both at Paris and in Italy. Among the 
innumerable questions which you may be sure I 
asked him concerning you, I happened to mention 
your dress (for, to say the truth, it was the only 
thing of which I thought him a competent judge), 
upon which he said that you dressed tolerably well 
at Paris ; but that in Italy you dressed so ill that 
he used to joke with you upon it, and even to tear 
your clothes. Now, I must tell you that at your 
age it is as ridiculous not to be very well dressed as 
at my age it would be if I were to wear a white 
feather and red-heeled shoes. Dress is one of vari- 
ous ingredients that contribute to the art of pleas- 
ing ; it pleases the eyes at least, and more especially 
of women. Address yourself to the senses, if you 
would please ; dazzle the eyes, soothe and flatter 



208 LETTERS OF LORD CHESTERFIELD 

the ears of mankind ; engage their hearts, and let 
their reason do its worst against you. Suaviter in 
modo is the great secret. Whenever you find your- 
self engaged insensibly in favor of anybody of no 
superior merit nor distinguished talents, examine 
and see what it is that has made those impressions 
upon you, and you will find it to be that douceur^ 
that gentleness of manners, that air and address, 
which I have so often recommended to you ; and 
from thence draw this obvious conclusion, — that 
what pleases you in them, will please others in you, 
for we are all made of the same clay, though some of 
the lumps are a little finer and some a little coarser ; 
but in general the surest way to judge of others 
is to examine and analyze one's self thoroughly. 
When we meet I will assist you in that analysis, in 
which every man wants some assistance against his 
own self-love. Adieu. 



LIV. 

ENGLISH AND FRENCH PLAYS COMPARED. 

London, _/2«. 23. o. s. 1752. 
My DEAR Friend, — Have you seen the new trag- 
edy of " Varon " ^ and what do you think of it ? Let 
me know, for I am determined to form my taste 
upon yours. I hear that the situations and inci- 
dents are well brought on and the catastrophe 

^ Written by the Vicomte de Grave, and at that time the 
general topic of conversation at Paris. 



TO HIS SON. 209 

unexpected and surprising, but the verses bad. I 
suppose it is the subject of all the conversations at 
Paris, where both women and men are judges and 
critics of all such performances. Such conversations 
that both form and improve the taste and whet the 
judgment are surely preferable to the conversations 
of our mixed companies here, which if they hap- 
pen to rise above bragg and whist infallibly stop 
short of everything either pleasing or instructive. 
I take the reason of this to be that (as women gen- 
erally give the ton to the conversation) our English 
women are not near so well informed and cultivated 
as the French ; besides that they are naturally more 
serious and silent. 

I could wish there were a treaty made between the 
French and English theatres in which both parties 
should make considerable concessions. The Eng- 
lish ought to give up their notorious violations of 
all the unities, and all their massacres, racks, dead 
bodies, and mangled carcasses which they so fre- 
quently exhibit upon their stage. The French should 
engage to have more action and less declamation ; 
and not to cram and crowd things together to al- 
most a degree of impossibility from a too scrupu- 
lous adherence to the unities. The English should 
restrain the licentiousness of their poets and the 
French enlarge the liberty of theirs : their poets 
are the greatest slaves in their country, and that is 
a bold word ; ours are the most tumultuous subjects 
in England, and that is saying a good deal. Under 
such regulations one might hope to see a play in 
which one should not be lulled to sleep by the 
14 



2IO LETTERS OF LORD CHESTERFIELD 

length of a monotonical declamation nor frightened 
and shocked by the barbarity of the action; the 
unity of time extended occasionally to three or four 
days and the unity of place broke into as far as the 
same street, or sometimes the same town, — both 
which I will affirm are as probable as four-and- 
twenty hours and the same room. 

More indulgence too, in my mind, should be 
shown than the French are willing to allow to 
bright thoughts and to shining images ; for though 
I confess it is not very natural for a hero or a prin- 
cess to say fine things in all the violence of grief, 
love, rage, etc., yet I can as well suppose that as 
I can that they should talk to themselves for half 
an hour; which they must necessarily do or no 
tragedy could be carried on, unless they had re- 
course to a much greater absurdity, — the choruses of 
the ancients. Tragedy is of a nature that one must 
see it with a degree of self-deception ; we must lend 
ourselves a little to the delusion ; and I am very 
willing to carry that complaisance a little farther 
than the French do. 

Tragedy must be something bigger than life or it 
would not effect us. In Nature the most violent 
passions are silent ; in tragedy they must speak, and 
speak with dignity too. Hence the necessity of 
their being written in verse, and unfortunately for 
the French, from the weakness of their language, in 
rhymes. And for the same reason Cato the Stoic, 
expiring at Utica, rhymes masculine and feminine 
at Paris, and fetches his last breath at London in 
most harmonious and correct blank verse. 



TO HIS SON. 2 1 1 

It is quite otherwise with comedy, which should 
be mere common hfe and not one jot bigger. 
Every character should speak upon the stage, not 
only what it would utter in the situation there re- 
presented, but in the same manner in which it 
would express it. For which reason I cannot allow 
rhymes in comedy, unless they were put into the 
mouth and came out of the mouth of a mad poet. 
But it is impossible to deceive one's self enough 
(nor is it the least necessary in comedy) to suppose 
a dull rogue of a usurer cheating, or gros Jean 
blundering, in the finest rhymes in the world. 

As for operas they are essentially too absurd and 
extravagant to mention. I look upon them as a 
magic scene contrived to please the eyes and the 
ears, at the expense of the understanding; and I 
consider singing, rhyming, and chiming heroes and 
princesses and philosophers, as I do the hills, the 
trees, the birds, and the beasts who amicably joined 
in one common country- dance to the irresistible 
turn of Orpheus's lyre. Whenever I go to an opera 
I leave my sense and reason at the door with my 
half guinea, and deliver myself up to my eyes and 
my ears. 



LV. 

UTILITY OF AIMING AT PERFECTION. 

London, Feb. 20, o. s. 1752. 
My dear Friend, — In all systems whatsoever, 
whether of religion, government, morals, etc., perfec- 



212 LETTERS OF LORD CHESTERFIELD 

tion is the object always proposed, though possibly 
unattainable, — hitherto at least certainly unattained. 
However, those who aim carefully at the mark itself 
will unquestionably come nearer it than those who 
from despair, negligence, or indolence leave to 
chance the work of skill. This maxim holds equally 
true in common life ; those who aim at perfection 
will come infinitely nearer it than those desponding 
or indolent spirits who foolishly say to themselves, 
" Nobody is perfect ; perfection is unattainable ; 
to attempt it is chimerical ; I shall do as well as 
others ; why then should I give myself trouble to be 
what I never can, and what according to the com- 
mon course of things I need not be, — perfect? " 

I am very sure that I need not point out to you 
the weakness and the folly of this reasoning, if it 
deserves the name of reasoning. It would discour- 
age and put a stop to the exertion of any one of our 
faculties. On the contrary a man of sense and 
spirit says to himself, " Though the point of perfec- 
tion may (considering the imperfection of our 
nature) be unattainable, my care, my endeavors, my 
attention, shall not be wanting to get as near it as I 
can. I will approach it every day ; possibly I may 
arrive at it at last ; at least — what I am sure is in 
my own power — I will not be distanced." Many 
fools (speaking of you) say to me, " What ! would 
you have him perfect? " I answer. Why not? What 
hurt would it do him or me ? ^* Oh, but that is im- 
possible," say they ; I reply I am not sure of that : 
perfection in the abstract I admit to be unattainable, 
but what is commonly called perfection in a char- 



TO HIS SON. 213 

acter I maintain to be attainable, and not only that 
but in every man's power. " He has," continue they, 
" a good head, a good heart, a good fund of know- 
ledge, which would increase daily : what would you 
have more?" Why, I would have everything more 
that can adorn and complete a character. Will it 
do his head, his heart, or his knowledge any harm 
to have the utmost delicacy of manners, the most 
shining advantages of air and address, the most 
endearing attentions and the most engaging graces ? 
" But as he is," say they, " he is loved wherever he is 
known." I am very glad of it, say I ; but I would 
have him be liked before he is known and loved 
afterwards. I would have him by his first abord 
and address, make people wish to know him, and 
inclined to love him ; he will save a great deal of 
time by it. " Indeed," reply they, " you are too 
nice, too exact, and lay too much stress upon things 
that are of very little consequence." Indeed, rejoin 
I, you know very little of the nature of mankind if 
you take those things to be of little consequence; 
one cannot be too attentive to them ; it is they that 
always engage the heart, of which the understanding 
is com.monly the bubble. And I would much rather 
that he erred in a point of grammar, of history, of 
philosophy, etc., than in point of manners and ad- 
dress. " But consider, he is very young : all this will 
come in time." I hope so ; but that time must be 
when he is young or it will never be at all ; the 
right pli must be taken young, or it will never be 
easy or seem natural. " Come, come," say they 
(substituting as is frequently done, assertion instead of 



214 L^^TTERS OF LORD CHESTERFIELD 

argument) , " depend upon it he will do very well ; 
and you have a great deal of reason to be satisfied 
with him." I hope and believe he will do well but I 
would have him do better than well. I am very well 
pleased with him but I would be more, — I would 
be proud of him. I would have him have lustre as 
well as weight. " Did you ever know anybody that 
re-united all these talents? " Yes, I did; Lord Bo- 
lingbroke joined all the politeness, the manners, and 
the graces of a courtier to the solidity of a states- 
man and to the learning of a pedant. He was 
omnis homo ; and pray what should hinder my boy 
from being so too, if he has as I think he has all 
the other qualifications that you allow him ? Noth- 
ing can hinder him but neglect of or inattention to 
those objects which his own good sense must tell 
him are of infinite consequence to him, and which 
therefore I will not suppose him capable of either 
neglecting or despising. 

This (to tell you the whole truth) is the result of 
a controversy that passed yesterday between Lady 
Hervey and myself, upon your subject and almost 
in the very words. I submit the decision of it to 
yourself; let your own good sense determine it, and 
make you act in consequence of that determination. 
The receipt to make this composition is short and 
infallible ; here I give it you : — 

Take variety of the best company wherever you 
are ; be minutely attentive to every word and 
action ; imitate respectively those whom you ob- 
serve to be distinguished and considered for any 
one accomplishment; then mix all those several 



TO HIS SON. 215 

accomplishments together and sen-e them up your- 
self to others. 



LVI. 

THE STUDY OF THE WORLD. — COMPANY THE 
ONLY SCHOOL. 

London, March 16, o. s. 1752. 
My dkar Friend, — How do you go on with the 
most useful and most necessary of all studies, — 
the study of the world ? Do you find that you gain 
knowledge; and does your daily experience at 
once extend and demonstrate your improvement? 
You will possibly ask me how you can judge of that 
yourself. I will tell you a sure way of knowing. 
Examine yourself and see whether your notions of 
the world are changed by experience from what 
they were two years ago in theory ; for that alone is 
one favorable s}Tnptom of improvement. At that 
age (I remember it in myself) every notion that 
one forms is erroneous ; one has seen few models 
and those none of the best to form one's self upon. 
One thinks that ever}thing is to be carried by spirit 
and \-igor ; that art is meanness, and that versatility 
and complaisance are the refuge of pusillanimity and 
weakness. This most mistaken opinion gives an 
indelicacy, a brusquerie, and a roughness to the 
manners. Fools, who can never be undeceived, re- 
tain them as long as they live ; reflection with a 
little experience makes men of sense shake them off 



2l6 LETTERS OF LORD CHESTERFIELD 

soon. When they come to be a little better ac- 
quainted with themselves and with their own species, 
they discover that plain right reason is nine times in 
ten the fettered and shackled attendant of the 
triumph of the heart and the passions ; and conse- 
quently they address themselves nine times in ten 
to the conqueror, not to the conquered : and con- 
querors you know must be applied to in the gen- 
tlest, the most engaging, and the most insinuating 
manner. Have you found out that every woman is 
infallibly to be gained by every sort of flattery, and 
every man by one sort or other? Have you dis- 
covered what variety of little things affect the heart 
and how surely they collectively gain it? If you 
have, you have made some progress. I would try a 
man's knowledge of the world as I would a school- 
boy's knowledge of Horace, — not by making him 
construe Mcecenas atavis edite regibus, which he 
could do in the first form, but by examining him 
as to the delicacy and curiosa Jelicitas of that poet. 
A man requires very little knowledge and experience 
of the world to understand glaring, high-colored, 
and decided characters ; they are but few and they 
strike at first. But to distinguish the almost imper- 
ceptible shades and the nice gradations of virtue 
and vice, sense and folly, strength and weakness 
(of which characters are commonly composed), de- 
mands some experience, great observation, and 
minute attention. In the same cases most people 
do the same things, but with this material difference, 
upon which the success commonly turns, — a man 
who has studied the world knows when to time and 



ro HIS SON. 217 

where to place them ; he has analyzed the charac- 
ters he applies to, and adapted his address and his 
arguments to them : but a man of what is called 
plain good sense, who has only reasoned by himself 
and not acted with mankind, mistimes, misplaces, 
runs precipitately and bluntly at the mark, and falls 
upon his nose in the way. In the common man- 
ners of social life every man of common-sense has 
the rudiments, the A B C of civility ; he means not 
to offend and even wishes to please, and if he has 
any real merit will be received and tolerated in 
good company. But that is far from being enough ; 
for though he may be received he will never be 
desired ; though he does not offend he will never 
be loved ; but like some little, insignificant, neutral 
power surrounded by great ones, he will neither be 
feared nor courted by any, but by turns invaded by 
all, whenever it is their interest. A most contemp- 
tible situation 1 Whereas a man who has carefully 
attended to and experienced the various workings 
of the heart and the artifices of the head, and who 
by one shade can trace the progression of the whole 
color ; who can at the proper times employ all the 
several means of persuading the understanding, and 
engaging the heart, may and will have enemies, but 
will and must have friends. He may be opposed, 
but he will be supported too ; his talents may excite 
the jealousy of some, but his engaging arts will make 
him beloved by many more; he will be consider- 
able ; he will be considered. Many different quali- 
fications must conspire to form such a man, and to 
make him at once respectable and amiable ; and the 



2l8 LETTERS OF LORD CHESTERFIELD 

least must be joined to the greatest; the latter 
would be unavailing without the former, and the 
former would be futile and frivolous without the 
latter. Learning is acquired by reading books ; but 
the much more necessary learning, the knowledge of 
the world, is only to be acquired by reading men 
and studying all the various editions of them. 
Many words in every language are generally thought 
to be synonymous ; but those who study the lan- 
guage attentively will find that there is no such 
thing. They will discover some little difference, some 
distinction between all those words that are vulgarly 
called synonymous ; one has always more energy, 
extent, or delicacy than another. It is the same 
with men ; all are in general, and yet no two in par- 
ticular, exactly alike. Those who have not accu- 
rately studied, perpetually mistake them ; they do 
not discern the shades and gradations that distin- 
guish characters seemingly alike. Company, various 
company, is the only school for this knowledge. 
You ought to be by this time at least in the third 
form of that school from whence the rise to the 
uppermost is easy and quick; but then you must 
have application and vivacity, and you must not 
only bear with but even seek restraint in most com- 
panies instead of stagnating in one or two only 
where indolence and love of ease may be indulged. 



TO HIS soi\r. 219 

LVII. 

HOW HISTORY SHOULD BE WRITTEN.— LOUIS XIV. 
London, April 13, o. s. 1752. 

Voltaire sent me from Berlin his history " du 
Siecle de Louis XIV." It came at a very proper 
time : Lord Bolingbroke had just taught me how 
history should be read ; Voltaire shows me how it 
should be written. I am sensible that it will meet 
with almost as many critics as readers. Voltaire 
must be criticised : besides, every man's favorite is 
attacked, for every prejudice is exposed, and our 
prejudices are our mistresses ; reason is at best our 
wife, very often heard indeed, but seldom minded. 
It is the history of the human understanding written 
by a man of parts for the use of men of parts. Weak 
minds will not like it, even though they do not un- 
derstand it, — which is commonly the measure of 
their admiration. Dull ones will want those minute 
and uninteresting details with which most other 
histories are encumbered. He tells me all I want 
to know and nothing more. His reflections are 
short, just, and produce others in his readers. Free 
from religious, philosophical, political, and national 
prejudices beyond any historian I ever met with, 
he relates all those matters as truly and as impar- 
tially as certain regards, which must always be to 
some degree observed, will allow him : for one sees 
plainly that he often says much less than he would 
say if he might. He has made me much better 



220 LETl^ERS OF LORD CHESTERFIELD 

acquainted with the times of Louis XIV. than the 
innumerable volumes which I had read could do ; 
and has suggested this reflection to me which I 
have never made before, — his vanity, not his knowl- 
edge, made him encourage all and introduce many 
arts and sciences in his country. He opened in a 
manner the human understanding in France and 
brought it to its utmost perfection ; his age equalled 
in all, and greatly exceeded in many things (pardon 
me, pedants !), the Augustan. This was great and 
rapid ; but still it might be done by the encourage- 
ment, the applause and the rewards of a vain, liberal, 
and magnificent prince. What is much more sur- 
prising is, that he stopped the operations of the 
human mind just where he pleased, and seemed 
to say, "Thus far shalt thou go, and no farther." 
For, a bigot to his religion, and jealous of his power, 
free and rational thoughts upon either never entered 
into a French head during his reign ; and the 
greatest geniuses that ever any age produced never 
entertained a doubt of the divine right of kings, 
or the infallibility of the Church. Poets, orators, 
and philosophers, ignorant of their natural rights, 
cherished their chains ; and blind active faith 
triumphed in those great minds over silent and 
passive reason. The reverse of this seems now to 
be the case in France : reason opens itself; fancy 
and invention fade and decline.^ 



1 " Chesterfield," says Lord Carnarvon, "foretold the 
French Revolution when the cloud was not bigger than a 
man's hand." 



TO HIS SON. 221 

LVIII. 

A VOIR DU MONDE EXPLAINED AND RECOMMENDED. 

London, April 30, o. s. 1752. 
My dear Friend, — Avoir du monde is in my 
opinion a very just and happy expression for hav- 
ing address, manners, and for knowing how to 
behave properly in all companies; and it imphes 
very truly that a man who has not those accom- 
plishments is not of the world. Without them the 
best parts are inefficient, civiHty is absurd, and 
freedom offensive. A learned parson rusting in his 
cell at Oxford or Cambridge will reason admirably 
well upon the nature of man ; will profoundly analyze 
the head, the heart, the reason, the will, the pas- 
sions, the senses, the sentiments, and all those sub- 
divisions of we know not what; and yet unfortu- 
nately he knows nothing of man, for he has not 
lived with him, and is ignorant of all the various 
modes, habits, prejudices, and tastes that always 
influence and often determine him. He views 
man asvhe does colors in Sir Isaac Newton's prism, 
where only the capital ones are seen ; but an ex- 
perienced dyer knows all their various shades and 
gradations, together with the result of their several 
mixtures. Few men are of one plain decided color ; 
most are mixed, shaded, and blended, and vary as 
much from different situations as changeable silks 
do from different lights. The man qui a du monde 
knows all this from his own experience and observa- 
tion : the conceited cloistered philosopher knows 



222 LETTERS OF LORD CHESTERFIELD 

nothing of it from his own theory ; his practice is 
absurd and improper, and he acts as awkwardly as 
a man would dance who had never seen others 
dance nor learned of a dancing- master, but who 
had only studied the notes by which dances are now 
pricked down as well as tunes. Observe and imi- 
tate, then, the address, the arts, and the manners of 
those qui ont du monde ; see by what methods they 
first make and afterwards improve impressions in 
their favor. Those impressions are much oftener 
owing to little causes than to intrinsic merit, which 
is less volatile and has not so sudden an eifect. 
Strong minds have undoubtedly an ascendant over 
weak ones, as Galigai Marechale d'Ancre very justly 
observed, when to the disgrace and reproach of 
those times she was executed ^ for having governed 
Mary of Medicis by the arts of witchcraft and magic. 
But then ascendant is to be gained by degrees, and 
by those arts only which experience and the knowl- 
edge of the world teaches ; for few are mean 
enough to be bullied, though most are weak enough 
to be bubbled. I have often seen people of supe- 
rior governed by people of much inferior parts, 
without knowing or even suspecting that they were 
so governed. This can only happen when those 
people of inferior parts have more worldly dexterity 
and experience than those they govern. They see 
the weak and unguarded part, and apply to it ; they 
take it and all the rest follows. Would you gain 
either men or women — and every man of sense 
desires to gain both — il faut du monde. You have 
1 On the 8th of July, 1617. 



TO HIS SON. 223 

had more opportunities than ever any man had at 
your age of acquiring ce monde ; you have been in 
the best companies of most countries at an age when 
others have hardly been in any company at all. You 
are master of all those languages which John Trott 
seldom speaks at all, and never well ; consequently 
you need be a stranger nowhere. This is the way, 
and the only way, of having du monde ; but if you 
have it not, and have still any coarse rusticity 
about you, may not one apply to you the rusticus 
expectat of Horace? 

"This knowledge of the world teaches us more 
particularly two things^ both which are of infinite 
consequence, and to neither of which nature in- 
clines us ; I mean, the command of our temper 
and of our countenance. A man who has no monde 
is inflamed with anger or annihilated with shame 
at every disagreeable incident ; the one makes him 
act and talk like a madman, the other makes him 
look like a fool. But a man who has du monde 
seems not to understand what he cannot or ought 
not to resent. If he makes a slip himself, he re- 
covers it by his coolness, instead of plunging deeper 
by his confusion, like a stumbling horse. He is 
firm, but gentle ; and practises that most excellent 
maxim, siiaviter in modo, fortiter in re. The other 
is the volto sciolto e pensie?i stretti} People unused 
to the world have babbling countenances, and are 
unskilful enough to show what they have sense 
enough not to tell. In the course of the world, a 
man must very often put on an easy, frank counte- 
1 An open countenance and a reserved mind. 



224 LETTERS OF LORD CHESTERFIELD 

nance upon very disagreeable occasions; he must 
seem pleased when he is very much otherwise ; he 
must be able to accost and receive with smiles those 
whom he would much rather meet with swords. In 
Courts he must not turn himself inside out. All 
this may, nay, must be done, without falsehood and 
treachery ; for it must go no further than politeness 
and manners, and must stop short of assurances 
and professions of simulated friendship. Good 
manners to those one does not love, are no more 
a breach of truth than " your humble servant " at 
the bottom of a challenge is ; they are universally 
agreed upon and understood to be things of course. 
They are necessary guards of the decency and 
peace of society ; they must only act defensively, and 
then not with arms poisoned with perfidy. Truth, 
but not the whole truth, must be the invariable 
principle of every man who has either religion, 
honor, or prudence. Those who violate it may be 
cunning, but they are not able. Lies and perfidy 
are the refuge of fools and cowards. Adieu ! 



LIX. 

ON MILITARY MEN. -SMALL CHANGE. 

London, Sept. 19, 1752. 

Your attending the parades has also another good 
effect, — which is that it brings you of course ac- 
quainted with the officers, who, when of a certain 
rank and service, are generally very polite, well bred 



TO HIS SON. 225 

people, ef du bon ton. They have commonly seen 
a great deal of the world and of Courts, — and noth- 
ing else can form a gentleman, let people say what 
they will of sense and learning, with both which a 
man may contrive to be a very disagreeable com- 
panion. I dare say there are very few captains of 
foot who are not much better company than ever 
Descartes or Sir Isaac Newton were. I honor and 
respect such superior geniuses ; but I desire to con- 
verse with people of this world, who bring into 
company their share at least of cheerfulness, good 
breeding, and knowledge of mankind. In common 
life, one much oftener wants small money and 
silver than gold. Give me a man who has ready 
cash about him for present expenses, — sixpences, 
shillings, half-crowns, and crowns, which circulate 
easily \ but a man who has only an ingot of gold 
about him is much above common purposes, and 
his riches are not handy nor convenient. Have as 
much gold as you please in one pocket, but take 
care always to keep change in the other; for you 
will much oftener have occasion for a shilling than 
for a guinea. 



226 LETTERS OF LORD CHESTERFIELD 



LX. 



ADAPTATION OF MANNERS TO PERSONS, PLACES. 
AND TIMES. 



London, Sept. 22, 1752. 



The reception which you have met with at Han- 
over I look upon as an omen of your being well 
received everywhere else ; for, to tell you the truth, 
it was the place that I distrusted the most in that 
particular. But there is a certain conduct, there 
are certaines manieres that will and must get the 
better of all difficulties of that kind ; it is to acquire 
them that you still continue abroad, and go from 
Court to Court ; they are personal, local, and tem- 
poral; they are modes which vary and owe their 
existence to accidents, whim, and humor. All the 
sense and reason in the world would never point 
them out ; nothing but experience, observation, and 
what is called knowledge of the world, can possibly 
teach them. For example, it is respectful to bow 
to the King of England ; it is disrespectful to bow 
to the King of France ; it is the rule to courtesy to 
the Emperor; and the prostration of the whole body 
is required by eastern monarchs. These are estab- 
lished ceremonies, and must be complied with ; but 
why they were established, I defy sense and reason 
to tell us. It is the same among all ranks, where 
certain customs are received and must necessarily 
be complied with, though by no means the result of 
sense and reason. As for instance, the very absurd 



TO HIS SON. 227 

though almost universal custom of drinking people's 
healths. Can there be anything in the world less 
relative to any other man's health than my drinking 
a glass of wine? Common sense certainly never 
pointed it out : but yet common sense tells me I 
must conform to it. Good sense bids one be civil 
and endeavor to please, though nothing but expe- 
rience and observation can teach one the means, 
properly adapted to time, place, and persons. This 
knowledge is the true object of a gentleman's trav- 
elling, if he travels as he ought to do. By frequent- 
ing good company in every country, he himself 
becomes of every country ; he is no longer an Eng- 
lishman, a Frenchman, or an Italian, but he is a 
European; he adopts, respectively, the best man- 
ners of every country, and is a Frenchman at Paris, 
an Italian at Rome, an Englishman at Lx^ndon. 

This advantage, I must confess, very seldom 
accrues to my countrymen from their travelling, 
as they have neither the desire nor the means of 
getting into good company abroad : for, in the first 
place, they are confoundedly bashful, and in the 
next place, they either speak no foreign language 
at all, or, if they do, it is barbarously. You possess 
all the advantages that they want ; you know the 
languages in perfection, and have constantly kept 
the best company in the places where you have 
been ; so that you ought to be a European. Your 
canvas is solid and strong, your outlines are good ; 
but remember that you still want the beautiful color- 
ing of Titian and the delicate graceful touches of 
Guido. Now is your time to get them. There is 



228 LETTERS OF LORD CHESTERFIELD 

in all good company a fashionable air, countenance, 
manner, and phraseology, which can only be ac- 
quired by being in good company, and very atten- 
tive to all that passes there. When you dine or 
sup at any well-bred man's house, observe carefully 
how he does the honors of his table to the different 
guests. Attend to the compliments of congratula- 
tion or condolence that you hear a well-bred man 
make to his superiors, to his equals, and to his 
inferiors ; watch even his countenance and his tone 
of voice, for they all conspire in the main point of 
pleasing. There is a certain distinguishing diction 
of a man of fashion; he will not content himself 
with saying, like John Trott, to a new married man, 
'' Sir, I wish you much joy," or to a man who lost his 
son, "Sir, I am sorry for your loss," and both with 
a countenance equally unmoved ; but he will say in 
effect the same thing, in a more elegant and less 
trivial manner, and with a countenance adapted to 
the occasion. He will advance with warmth, viva- 
city, and a cheerful countenance to the new married 
man, and embracing him, perhaps say to him, " If 
you do justice to my attachment to you, you will 
judge of the joy that I feel upon this occasion 
better than I can express it," etc. To the other 
in affliction, he will advance slowly, with a grave 
composure of countenance, in a more deliberate 
manner, and with a lower voice, perhaps say, " I 
hope you do me the justice to be convinced that 
I feel whatever you feel, and shall ever be affected 
where you are concerned." 

Your abord, I must tell you was too cold and 



TO HIS SON. 229 

uniform ; I hope it is now mended. It should be 
respectfully open and cheerful with your superiors, 
warm and animated with your equals, hearty and 
free with your inferiors. There is a fashionable 
kind of small talk, which you should get, which, 
trifling as it is, is of* use in mixed companies and 
at table, especially in your foreign department, 
where it keeps off certain serious subjects that 
might create disputes, or at least coldness for a 
time. Upon such occasions it is not amiss to know 
how to parler cuisine, and to be able to dissert upon 
the growth and flavor of wines. These, it is true, 
are very little things ; but they are little things that 
occur very often, and therefore should be said avec 
gentillesse et grace. I am sure they must fall often 
in your way ; pray take care to catch them. There 
is a certain language of conversation, a fashionable 
diction, of which every gentleman ought to be per- 
fectly master, in whatever language he speaks. 
The French attend to it carefully, and with great 
reason ; and their language, which is a language of 
phrases, helps them out exceedingly. That deli- 
cacy of diction is characteristical of a man of 
fashion and good company. 

I could write folios upon this subject and not 
exhaust it; but I think and hope that to you I 
need not. You have heard and seen enough to be 
convinced of the truth and importance of what I 
have been so long inculcating into you upon these 
points. How happy am I, and how happy are you, 
my dear child, that these Titian tints and Guido 
graces are all that you want to complete my hopes 



230 LETTERS OF LORD CHESTERFIELD 

and your own character ! But then, on the other 
hand, what a drawback would it be to that happiness, 
if you should never acquire them ! I remember, 
when I was of your age, though I had not had near 
so good an education as you have or seen a quarter 
so much of the world, I observed those masterly 
touches and irresistible graces in others, and saw 
the necessity of acquiring them myself; but then 
an awkward mauvaise honte, of which I had brought 
a great deal with me from Cambridge, made me 
ashamed to attempt it, especially if any of my coun- 
trymen and particular acquaintance were by. This 
was extremely absurd in me ; for, without attempt- 
ing, I could never succeed. But at last, insensibly, 
by frequenting a great deal of good company, and 
imitating those whom I saw that everybody liked, 
I formed myself, tant bien que maL For God's 
sake, let this last fine varnish, so necessary to give 
lustre to the whole piece, be the sole and single 
object now of your utmost attention. Berlin may 
contribute a great deal to it if you please ; there 
are all the ingredients that compose it. 



LXI. 

VOLTAIRE, HOMER, VIRGIL, MILTON, AND TASSO.— 
CHARLES XII. OF SWEDEN NOT A HERO. 

Bath, October 4, 1752. 
My DEAR Friend, — I consider you now as at 
the court of Augustus,^ where, if ever the desire of 
1 The court of Frederick II. of Prussia. 



TO HIS SON. 231 

pleasing animated you, it must make you exert all 
the means of doing it. You will see there, full as 
well, I dare say, as Horace did at Rome, how 
States are defended by arms, adorned by manners, 
and improved by laws. Nay, you have an Horace 
there, as well as an Augustus ; I need not name 
Voltaire, qui nil molitur inepte, as Horace himself 
said of another poet. I have lately read over all 
his works that are published, though I had read 
them more than once before. I was induced to 
this by his " Siecle de Louis XIV.," which I have yet 
read but four times. In reading over all his works, 
with more attention I suppose than before, my 
former admiration of him is, I own, turned into 
astonishment. There is no one kind of writing in 
which he has not excelled. You are so severe a 
classic that I question whether you will allow me to 
call his "Henriade " an epic poem, for want of the 
proper number of gods, devils, witches, and other 
absurdities requisite for the machinery ; which ma- 
chinery is, it seems, necessary to constitute the 
Epopee. But whether you do or not, I will declare 
(though possibly to my own shame) that I never 
read any epic poem with near so much pleasure. I 
am grown old, and have possibly lost a great deal of 
that fire which formerly made me love fire in others 
at any rate, and however attended with smoke ; but 
now I must have all sense, and cannot for the sake 
of five righteous lines forgive a thousand absurd ones. 
In this disposition of mind, judge whether I can 
read all Homer through tout de suite. I admire his 
beauties, but to tell you the truth, when he slumbers 



232 LETTERS OF LORD CHESTERFIELD 

I sleep. Virgil, I confess, is all sense, and therefore 
I like him better than his model ; but he is often 
languid, especially in his five or six last books, dur- 
ing which I am obliged to take a good deal of snuff. 
Besides, I profess myself an ally of Turnus's against 
the pious ^neas, who like many sot disant pious 
people, does the most flagrant injustice and violence 
in order to execute what they impudently call the 
will of Heaven. But what will you say when I tell 
you truly that I cannot possibly read our country- 
man Milton through? I acknowledge him to 
have some most sublime passages, some prodigious 
flashes of light ; but then you must acknowledge 
that light is often followed by da^-kness visible^ to 
use his own expression. Besides, not having the 
honor to be acquainted with any of the parties in 
his poem, except the man and the woman, the 
characters and speeches of a dozen or two of angels 
and of as many devils are as much above my reach 
as my entertainment. Keep this secret for me ; for 
if it should be known, I should be abused by every 
tasteless pedant and every solid divine in England. 
Whatever I have said to the disadvantage of 
these three poems holds much stronger against 
Tasso's " Gierusalemme : " it is true he has very fine 
and glaring rays of poetry ; but then they are only 
meteors, they dazzle, then disappear, and are suc- 
ceeded by false thoughts, poor concetti, and absurd 
impossibilities. Witness the Fish and the Parrot ; 
extravagancies unworthy of an heroic poem, and 
would much better have become Ariosto, who 
professes le coglionerie. 



TO HIS SON. 233 

I have never read the Lusiad of Camoens, except in 
a prose translation, consequently I have never read it 
at all, so shall say nothing of it ; but the " Henriade " 
is all sense from the beginning to the end, often 
adorned by the justest and liveliest reflections, 
the most beautiful descriptions, the noblest images, 
and the sublimest sentiments, — not to mention the 
harmony of the verse, in which Voltaire undoubtedly 
exceeds all the French poets. Should you insist 
upon an exception in favor of Racine, I must insist 
on my part that he at least equals him. What hero 
ever interested more than Henry the Fourth, who 
according to the rules of epic poetry, carries on one 
great and long action, and succeeds in it at last? 
What descriptions ever excited more horror than 
those, first of the massacre, and then of the famine 
at Paris? Was love ever painted with more truth 
and 7noi'bidezza than in the ninth book? Not 
better in my mind, even in the fourth of Virgil. 
Upon the whole, with all your classical rigor, if you 
will but suppose St. Louis a god, a devil, or a witch, 
and that he appears in person and not in a dream, 
the " Henriade " will be an epic poem, according to 
the strictest statute laws of the Epopee ; but in my 
court of equity it is one as it is. 

I could expatiate as much upon all his different 
works but that I should exceed the bounds of a 
letter, and run into a dissertation. How delightful is 
his history of that northern brute, the King of Swe- 
den ! ^ — for I cannot call him a man ; and I should 

1 Charles XII. Voltaire's life of that king first appeared 
ini73i. 



234 LETTERS OF LORD CHESTERFIELD 

be sorry to have him pass for a hero, out of regard 
to those true heroes, such as JuHus Caesar, Titus, 
Trajan, and the present King of Prussia, who culti- 
v^ated and encouraged arts and sciences; whose 
animal courage was accompanied by the tender and 
social sentiments of humanity _; and who had more 
pleasure in improving than in destroying their fellow- 
creatures. What can be more touching or more 
interesting, what more nobly thought or more 
happily expressed than all his dramatic pieces? 
What can be more clear and rational than all his 
philosophical letters ; and what ever was so graceful 
and gentle as all his little poetical trifles? You are 
fortunately a port^e of verifying by your knowledge 
of the man all that I have said of his works. 



LXII. 

A WORTHY, TIRESOME MAN. — MANNERS ADD LUSTRE 
TO LEARNING. 

London, May 27, o. s. 1753. 
My DEAR Friend, — I have this day been tired, 
jaded, nay, tormented, by the company of a most 
worthy, sensible, and learned man, a near relation 
of mine, who dined and passed the evening with 
me. This seems a paradox but is a plain truth ; 
he has no knowledge of the world, no manners, no 
address. Far from talking without book, as is com- 
monly said of people who talk sillily, he only talks 
by book, — which in general conversation is ten 



TO HIS SON. 235 

times worse. He has formed in his own closet 
from books certain systems of everything, argues 
tenaciously upon those principles, and is both sur- 
prised and angry at whatever deviates from them. 
His theories are good but unfortunately are all 
impracticable. Why? because he has only read 
and not conversed. He is acquainted with books 
and an absolute stranger to men. Laboring with 
his matter he is delivered of it with pangs ; he 
hesitates, stops in his utterance, and always ex- 
presses himself inelegantly. His actions are all 
ungraceful ; so that with all his merit and knowl- 
edge, I would rather converse six hours with the 
most frivolous tittle-tattle woman who knew some- 
thing of the world than with him. The preposterous 
notions of a systematical man who does not know 
the world tire the patience of a man who does. It 
would be endless to correct his mistakes, nor would 
he take it kindly, for he has considered everything 
deliberately and is very sure that he is in the right. 
Impropriety is a characteristic, and a never- failing 
one, of these people. Regardless, because ignorant, 
of customs and manners, they violate them every 
moment. They often shock though they never mean 
to offend, never attending either to the general 
character or the particular distinguishing circum- 
stances of the people to whom or before whom they 
talk ; whereas the knowledge of the world teaches 
one that the very same things which are exceedingly 
right and proper in one company, time, and place 
are exceedingly absurd in others. In short, a man 
who has great knowledge from experience and ob- 



236 LETTERS OF LORD CHESTERFIELD 

servation of the character, customs, and manners of 
mankind is a being as different from and as superior 
to a man of mere book and systematical knowledge 
as a well-managed horse is to an ass. Study there- 
fore, cultivate, and frequent men and women, — not 
only in their outward, and consequently guarded, 
but in theii' interior, domestic, and consequently less 
disguised characters and manners. Take your no- 
tions of things as by observation and experience 
you find they really are, and not as you read that 
they are or should be, for they never are quite what 
they should be. For this purpose do not content 
yourself with general and common acquaintance, but 
wherever you can, establish yourself with a kind of 
domestic familiarity in good houses. For instance, 
go again to Orli for two or three days and so at two 
or three rep7'ises. Go and stay two or three days 
at a time at Versailles and improve and extend the 
acquaintance you have there. Be at home at St. 
Cloud, and whenever any private person of fashion 
invites you to pass a few days at his country-house 
accept of the imitation. This will necessarily give 
you a versatility of mind and a facility to adopt 
various manners and customs ; for everybody desires 
to please those in whose house they are, and people 
are only to be pleased in their own way. Nothing 
is more engaging than a cheerful and easy con- 
formity to people's particular manners, habits, and 
even weaknesses ; nothing (to use a vulgar expres- 
sion) should come amiss to a young fellow. He 
should be for good purposes what Alcibiades was 
commonly for bad ones, — a Proteus assuming with 



TO HIS SON. 237 

ease and wearing with cheerfulness any shape. 
Heat, cold, luxury, abstinence, gravity, gayety, cere- 
mony, easiness, learning, trifling, business, and pleas- 
ure are modes which he should be able to take, lay 
aside, or change occasionally with as much ease as 
he would take or lay aside his hat. All this is only 
to be acquired by use and knowledge of the world, 
by keeping a great deal of company, analyzing every 
character, and insinuating yourself into the familiarity 
of various acquaintance. A right, a generous ambi- 
tion to make a figure in the world, necessarily gives 
the desire of pleasing ; the desire of pleasing points 
out to a great degree the means of doing it ; and 
the art of pleasing is in truth the art of rising, of 
distinguishing one's self, of making a figure and a 
fortune in the world. But without pleasing, without 
the Graces, as I have told you a thousand times, ogni 
fatica e vana. You are now but nineteen, an age 
at which most of your countrymen are illiberally 
getting drunk in port at the University. You have 
greatly got the start of them in learning, and if you 
can equally get the start of them in the knowledge 
and manners of the world, you may be very sure of 
outrunning them in Court and Parliament, as you set 
out so much earlier than they. They generally 
begin but to see the world at one and twenty ; you 
will by that age have seen all Europe. They set 
out upon their travels unlicked cubs, and in their 
travels they only lick one another, for they seldom 
go into any other company. They know nothing 
but the English world, and the worst part of that 
too, and generally very little of any but the English 



238 LETTERS OF LORD CHESTERFIELD 

language, and they come home at three or four-and- 
twenty refined and poHshed (as is said in one of 
Congreve's plays) Hke Dutch skippers from a whale- 
fishing. The care which has been taken of you, 
and to do you justice the care that you have taken 
of yourself, has left you at the age of nineteen only 
nothing to acquire but the knowledge of the world, 
manners, address, and those exterior accomplish- 
ments. But they are great and necessary acquisi- 
tions to those who have sense enough to know their 
true value, and your getting them before you are 
one and twenty and before you enter upon the 
active and shining scene of life will give you such 
an advantage over your contemporaries that they 
cannot overtake you ; they must be distanced. You 
may probably be placed about a young prince who 
will probably be a young king. There all the various 
arts of pleasing, the engaging address, the versatility 
of manners, the brillant^ the Graces, will outweigh 
and yet outrun all solid knowledge and unpolished 
merit. Oil yourself therefore, and be both supple 
and shining for that race if you would be first, or 
early at the goal. Ladies will most probably too 
have something to say there, and those who are 
best with them will probably be best somewhere else. 
Labor this great point, my dear child, indefatigably ; 
attend to the very smallest parts, the minutest graces, 
the most trifling circumstances that can possibly 
concur in forming the shining character of a com- 
plete gentleman, un galant homme^ un homme de 
cour^ a man of business and pleasure, esHmi des 
hornmesy recherche desfemmeSf aimt de tout le monde. 



TO HIS SON. 239 

In this view, observe the shining part of every man 
of fashion who is Hked and esteemed ; attend to 
and imitate that particular accomplishment for which 
you hear him chiefly celebrated and distinguished ; 
then collect those various parts and make yourself a 
mosaic of the whole. No one body possesses every- 
thing, and almost everybody possesses some one 
thing worthy of imitation ; only choose your models 
well, and in order to do so, choose by your ear more 
than by your eye. The best model is always that 
which is most universally allowed to be the best, 
though in strictness it may possibly not be so. We 
must take most things as they are j we cannot make 
them what we would nor often what they should be, 
and where moral duties are not concerned, it is 
more prudent to follow than to attempt to lead. 
Adieu. 



LETTERS OF LORD CHESTERFIELD 
TO HIS GODSON. 



LETTERS OF LORD CHESTERFIELD 
TO HIS GODSON. 



DIVERSION ORDERED, STUDY REQUESTED, IGNORANCE 
DESPISED. 

London, Nov. 3, 1761. 
May it please your honor/ see how punctual 
I am. I received your letter but yesterday, and I 
do myself the honor of answering it to-day. You 
tell me that when you are at Monsieur Robert's, you 
will obey my orders, but that is a very unlimited 
engagement, for how do you know what orders I 
shall give you? As for example, suppose I should 
order you to play and divert yourself heartily, would 
you do it ? And yet that will be one of my orders. 
It is true I shall desire you at your leisure hours to 
mind your reading, your writing, and your French ; 
but that will be only a request which you may com- 
ply with or not as you please ; for no man who 
does not desire to know and to be esteemed in the 
world should be forced to it, for it is punishment 
enough to be a blockhead and to be despised in 
all companies. 

1 The boy was in his seventh year at the date of this 
letter. 



244 LETTERS OF LORD CHESTERFIELD 

I fancy you have a good memory ; and from time 
to time, young as it is, I shall put it to the trial ; 
for whatever you get by heart at this age you 
will remember as long as you live, and therefore I 
send you these fine verses of Mr. Dryden, and give 
you a whole month to get them by heart. 

I " When I consider life, 't is all a cheat ; 

Yet fool'd with hope, men favor the deceit, 
Trust on, and think to-morrow will repay. 
To-morrow 's falser than the former day ; 
Lies worse, and when it bids us most be blest 
With some new hope, cuts off what we possest. 
Fond cozenage this ; who 'd live past years again t 
Yet all hope pleasure from what still remain ; 
And from the dregs of life think to receive 
What the first sprightly runnings could not give. 
I 'm tired of seeking for this chymick gold, 
W^hich fools us young, and beggars us when old. 






/duty to god, and duty to man 



IAN.\ 



Aug. 2 [1762]. 

Dear Phil, — Though I generally write to you 
upon those subjects which you are now chiefly 
employed in, such as history, geography, and 
French, yet I must from time to time remind you 
of two much more important duties which I hope 
you will never forget nor neglect. I mean your 
duty to God and your duty to man. God has 
been so good as to write in all our hearts the duty 
that he expects from us, which is adoration and 
thanksgiving, and doing all the good we can to our 



TO HIS GODSON. 245 

fellow creatures. Our conscience, if we will but 
consult and attend to it, never fails to remind us 
of those duties. I dare say that you feel an inward 
pleasure when you have learned your book well and 
have been a good boy, as on the other hand I am 
sure you feel an inward uneasiness when you have 
not done so. This is called ^' conscience," which I 
hope you will always consult and follow. You owe 
all the advantages you enjoy to God, who can and 
who probably wdll take them away whenever you 
are ungrateful to him, for he has justice as well as 
mercy. Get by heart the four following and ex- 
cellent lines of Voltaire, and retain them in your 
mind as long as you live : — 

" Dieu nous donna les biens, il veut qu'on en jouisse ; 
Mais n'oublies jamais leur cause et leur Auteur ; 
Et quand vous goutez sa Divine faveur, 
O Mortels, gardez vous d' oublier sa justice." 

Vour duty to man is very short and clear, — it is 
only to do to him whatever you would be willing 
that he should do to you. And remember in all 
the business of your life to ask your conscience 
this question : " Should I be willing that this should 
be done to me?" If your conscience, which will 
always tell you truth, answers NO, do not do that 
thing. Observe these rules, and you will be happy 
in this world and still happier in the next. Bon 
soir, mon petit bout d'homme. 

Chesterfield. 



246 LETTERS OF LORD CHESTERFIELD 



III. 



ROUGH MANNERS: JOHN TROTT, THE TWO-LEGGED 
BEAR. 

Black-heath, Aug. 18 [1762]. 
Dear Phil, — I cannot enough inculcate into 
you the absolute necessity and infinite advantages 
of pleasing ; that is, d'etre aimable ; and it is so easy 
to be so that I am surprised at the folly or stupidity 
of those who neglect it. The first great step to- 
wards pleasing is to desire to please, and whoever 
really desires it will please to a certain degree. 
La douceur et la politesse dans I'air et dans les 
manieres plairont toujours. I am very sorry to tell 
you that you have not Pair de la politesse ; for you 
have got an odious trick of not looking people in 
the face who speak to you, or whom you speak to. 
This is a most shocking trick, and implies guilt, 
fear, or inattention ; and you must absolutely be 
cured of it or nobody will love you. You know 
what stress both your father and I lay upon it, and 
we shall neither of us love you till you are broke 
of it. I am sure you would not be called John 
Trott, and both I and others will call you so if you 
are not more attentive and polite. I believe you 
do not know who this same John Trott is. He is 
a character in a play of a brutal, bearish EngHsh- 
man ; for there are English two-legged bears, and 
but too many of them. He is rude, inattentive, 
and rough, seldom bows to people, and never looks 
them in the face. After this description of him. 



TO HIS GODSON. 247 

tell me which would you choose to be called, John 
Trott or a well-bred gentleman. C'est a dire vou- 
driez-vous etre aimable, ou brutal. II n'y a point 
de milieu \ il faut opter et dtre I'un ou I'autre. I 
know which you will choose, — I am sure you will 
desire and endeavor to be aimable. 



IV. 

THE WELL-BRED GENTLEMAN. 

Monday Morning [1762]. 
Dear Phil, — You say that you will not be John 
Trott, and you are in the right of it, for I should be 
very sorry to call you John Trott, and should not 
love you half so well as I do, if you deserved that 
name. The lowest and the poorest people in the 
world expect good breeding from a gentleman, and 
they have a right to it, for they are by nature your 
equals, and are no otherwise your inferiors than by 
their education and their fortune. Therefore when- 
ever you speak to people who are no otherwise your 
inferiors than by these circumstances, you must re- 
member to look them in the face, and to speak to 
them with great humanity and douceur, or else they 
will think you proud and hate you. I am sure you 
would rather be loved than either hated or laughed 
at, and yet I can assure [you] that you will be either 
hated or laughed at if you do not make yourself aim- 
able. You will ask me perhaps what you must do to 
be aimable. Do but resolve to be so and the busi- 



248 LETTERS OF LORD CHESTERFLELD 

ness is almost done. Ayez seulement de la poli- 
tesse, de la douceur, et des attentions, et je vous 
reponds que vous serez aime, et d'autant plus, que 
les Anglois ne sont pas gen^ralement aimables. 
Among attentions, one of the most material ones is 
to look people in the face when they speak to you 
or when you sj^eak to them, and this I insist upon 
your doing, or upon my word I shall be very angry. 
Another thing I charge you always to do ; which is, 
when you come into a room, or go out of it, to 
make a bow to the company. All this I dare say 
you will do, because I am sure that you would rather 
be called a well-bred gentleman than John Trott. 
I therefore send you this pocket-book, and will one 
day this week send for you to dine with me at 
Black-heath, before the days grow too short. Adieu ; 
soyez honnete homme. 

Chesterfield. 



V. 



SOME RULES FOR THE BEHAVIOR OF A WELL-BRED 
GENTLEMAN. 

[1762.] 

Dear Phil, — As I know that you desire to be a 
well-bred gentleman and not a two-legged bear, and 
to be beloved instead of being hated or laughed at, 
I send you some general rules for your behavior, 
which will make you not only be loved but admired. 
You must have great attention to everything that 
passes where you are, in order to do what will be 
most agreeable to the company. 



TO HIS GODSON. 249 

Whoever you speak to, or whoever speaks to you, 
you must be sure to look them full in the face. 
For it is not only ill bred, but brutal, either to look 
upon the ground or to have your eyes wandering 
about the room, when people are speaking to you or 
you are speaking to them. When people speak to 
you, though they do not directly ask you a question 
you must give them an answer, and not let them 
think that you are deaf or that you do not care 
what they say. For example, if a person says to you 
" This [is] a very hot day," you must say, " yes " or 
" No, sir." 

You must call every gentleman " sir " or " my 
lord," and every woman " madam." . . . 

When you are at dinner you must sit upright in 
your chair, and not loll. And when anybody offers 
to help you to anything, if you will have it you must 
say, " Yes, if you will be so good," or, *' I am ashamed 
to give you so much trouble." If you will not have 
it you must say, " No, thank you," or, " I am very 
much obliged to you." You must drink first to the 
mistress of the house and next to the master of it. 

When you first come into a room you must not 
fail to make a bow to the company, and also when 
you go out of it. 

You must never look sullen or pouting, but have a 
cheerful, easy countenance. 

Remember that there is no one thing so neces- 
sary for a gentleman as to be perfectly civil and 
well bred. Nobody was ever loved that was not 
well bred; and to tell you the truth, neither your 
papu nor 1 snail love you if you are not well bred. 



250 LETTERS OF LORD CHESTERFIELD 

and I am sure you desire that we should both love 
you, as we do now, because you are a very good 
boy. And so God bless you. 



VI. 



THE ART OF PLEASING : SACRIFICE TO THE GRACES. 

A Bath, 12 Decern., 1763. 
Vous dites que vous souhaittez de briller dans le 
monde, et vous avez raison, car on n'y est point 
placd simplement pour boire et pour manger. Vous 
qui etes n^ avec du bon sens naturel, il vous est 
ais^ de vous distinguer dans le monde, si vous le 
voulez veritablement, mais il ne faut pas perdre du 
temps, il faut commencer a votre age, ou bien vous 
n'y parviendrez jamais. II n'y a que deux choses a 
faire pour cela, et qui dependent absolument de 
vous, qui sont d'etre tres poli et tres savant. Si 
vous etes savant, mais sans politesse et sans mani- 
eres, vous pourrez peut-etre, etre estim^, mais 
jamais dtre aim^. De I'autre cote si vous etes poli, 
mais ignorant, on ne vous haira pas a la verity, mais 
on vous meprisera, et on se mocquera de vous. II 
faut done necessairement vous rendre en m^me 
temps aimable et estimable, si vous voulez briller, — 
aimable par vos manieres douces et polies, par vos 
attentions, par un air prevenant, par les Graces; 
et estimable par votre savoir. Le grand art, et le 
plus necessaire de tous, c'est Part de plaire. Vou- 
loir tout de bon plaire, est bien la moiti^ du chemin 
pour y parvenir, le reste depend de I'observation et 



TO HIS GODSON. 25 I 

de I'usage du monde, dont je vous parlerai fort 
souvent dans la suite ; mais en attendant, cherchez 
a plaire autant que vous le pourrez, et faites vos 
petites remarques de tout ce qui vous plait ou vous 
deplait dans les autres, et comptez qu'a peu pres 
les memes choses en vous plairont ou deplairont aux 
autres. Pour les moyens de plaire, ils sont infinis, 
mais je vous les developperai peu a peu selon que 
votre age le permettra, a present je me contenterai, 
si vous prenez une forte resolution de plaire autant 
que vous le pourrez. Sacrifiez toujours aux Graces, 



VII. 

FLAT CONTRADICTION A PROOF OF ILL BREEDING.— 
AN EPIGRAM.— SIMILES AND METAPHORS. 

July 13, 1764. 

I shall sometimes correspond with my giddy little 
boy in English,^ that he may not be a stranger to 
his own language ; for though it is very useful and 
becoming to a gentleman to speak several languages 
well, it is most absolutely necessary for him to speak 
his own native language correctly and elegantly, not 
to be laughed at in every company. It is a ter- 
rible thing to be ridiculous, and little things will 
make a man so. For instance, not writing nor 
spelling well makes any man ridiculous, but above 
all things being ill bred makes a man not only 
ridiculous but hated. I am sure you know that it is 

^ Many of Lord Chesterfield's earlier letters to his god- 
son were written in French. 



252 LETTERS OF LORD CHESTER FLELD 

your most important moral duty to do to others 
what you would have them do to you ; and would 
you have them civil to you and endeavor to please 
you? To be sure you would; consequently it is 
your duty as well as your interest to be civil to, and 
to endeavor to please, them. There is no greater 
mark of ill breeding than contradicting people 
bluntly, and saying, '* No," or " It is not so ; " and 
I will give you warning that if you say so, you will 
be called Phil Trott, of Mansfield, and perhaps you 
would never get off of that name as long as you live, 
for ridicule sticks a great while. When well-bred 
people contradict anybody, they say, instead of 
"No," "I ask pardon, but I take it to be other- 
wise," or " It seems to me to be the contrary ; " but a 
flat " No " is as much the same as saying *^ You lie ; " 
for which if you were a man you would be knocked 
down, and perhaps run through the body. To re- 
fresh your English, I send you here a pretty little 
gallant epigram, written upon a lady's fan by the 
late Bishop of Rochester, Dr. Atterbury. 

" Flavia the least and slightest toy 
Can with resistless art employ. 
This fan in other hands would prove 
An engine of small force in love ; 
But she with matchless air and mien, 
Not to be told nor safely seen, 
Directs its wanton motions so, 
It wounds us more than Cupid's bow, 
Gives coolness to the matchless dame, 
To every other breast a flame. 

This epigram you see turns upon the flame of 
love, which is a common metaphor used by lovers. 



TO HIS GODSON. 253 

and the coolness that fanning gives. But you will 
naturally ask me what is a metaphor, and I will tell 
you that it is a short simile, but then what is a 
simile? A simile is a comparison, as for example, 
if you should say that Charles the Twelfth of Swe- 
den was as brave as a lion, that would be a simile, 
because you compare him to a lion \ but if you said 
that Charles the Twelfth was a lion, that would be 
a metaphor, because you do not say that he was like 
a lion, but that he was a lion. Do you understand 
this? Good-night, my little boy; be attentive to 
your book, well bred in company, and alive at your 
play. Be totus in illis. 



VIII. 

DO UNTO OTHERS AS YOU WOULD THEY SHOULD 
DO UNTO YOU. 

Bath, Nov. 7, 1765. 
My dear little Boy, — The desire of being 
pleased is universal ; the desire of pleasing should be 
so too, — it is included in that great and funda- 
mental principle of morality, of doing to others what 
one wishes that they should do to us. There are 
indeed some moral duties of a much higher but 
none of a more amiable nature, and I do not hesi- 
tate to place it at the head of what Cicero calls 
the " leniores virtutes." The benevolent and feeUng 
heart performs this duty with pleasure, and in a 
manner that gives it at the same time ; but the great, 
the rich, and the powerful too often bestow their 



254 LETTERS OF LORD CHESTERFIELD 

favors upon their inferiors in a manner that they 
bestow their scraps upon their dogs, — so as neither 
to obHge man nor dog. It is no wonder if favors, 
benefits, and even charities, thus ungraciously be- 
stowed, should be as coldly and faintly acknowl- 
edged. Gratitude is a burden upon our imperfect 
nature, and we are but too willing to ease ourselves 
of it, or at least to lighten it as much as we can. 
The manner therefore of conferring favors or bene- 
fits is as to pleasing almost as important as the 
matter itself. Take care, then, never to throw away 
the obligations which you may perhaps have it in 
your power to lay upon others, by an air of inso- 
lent protection, or by a cold, comfortless, and per- 
functory manner, which stifles them in their birth. 
Humanity inclines, religion requires, and our moral 
duty obliges us to relieve as far as we are able the 
distresses and miseries of our fellow creatures ; but 
this is not all, for a true, heartfelt benevolence and 
tenderness will prompt us to contribute what we 
can to their ease, their amusement, and their pleas- 
ure as far as innocently we may. Let us then not 
only scatter benefits but even strew flowers for our 
fellow travellers in the rugged ways of this wretched 
world. There are some, and but too many in this 
country more particularly, who without the least 
visible taint of ill-nature or malevolence seem to be 
totally indifferent, and do not show the least desire 
to please, as on the other hand they never design- 
edly offend. Whether this proceeds from a lazy, 
negligent, and listless disposition, from a gloomy 
and melancholic nature, from ill health and low 



TO HIS GODSON. 255 

spirits, or from a secret and sullen pride arising 
from the consciousness of their boasted liberty and 
independency, is hard to determine, considering the 
various movements of the human heart, and the 
wonderful errors of the human mind; but be the 
cause what it will, that neutrality which is the effect 
of it makes these people, as neutralities always 
do, despicable, and mere blanks in society. They 
would surely be roused from this indifference, if 
they would seriously consider the infinite utility of 
pleasing^ which I shall do in my next. 



IX. 



ON SELF-COMMAND. 

Bath, Dec. 12, 1765. 
My dear little Boy, — If you have not com- 
mand enough over yourself to conquer your humor, 
as I hope you will and as I am sure every rational 
creature may have, never go into company while 
the fit of ill humor is upon you. Instead of com- 
panies diverting you in those moments, you will 
displease and probably shock them, and you will 
part worse friends than you met. But whenever 
you find in yourself a disposition to sullenness, con- 
tradiction, or testiness, it will be in vain to seek for 
a cure abroad ; stay at home, let your humor fer- 
ment, and work itself off. Cheerfulness and good 
humor are of all qualifications the most amiable in 
company, for though they do not necessarily imply 
good-nature and good breeding, they act them at 



256 LETTERS OF LORD CHESTERFIELD 

least very well, and that is all that is required in 
mixed company. I have indeed known some very 
ill-natured people who are very good-humored in 
company, but I never knew anybody generally ill- 
humored in company who was not essentially ill- 
natured. When there is no malevolence in the 
heart, there is always a cheerfulness and ease in the 
countenance and the manners. By good humor 
and cheerfulness I am far from meaning noisy mirth 
and loud peals of laughter, which are the distinguish- 
ing characteristics of the vulgar and the ill bred, 
whose mirth is a kind of a storm. Observe it, the 
vulgar often laugh but never smile, whereas well- 
bred people often smile and seldom or never laugh. 
A witty thing never excited laughter ; it pleases only 
the mind and never distorts the countenance. A 
glaring absurdity, a blunder, a silly accident, and 
those things that are generally called comical may 
excite a momentary laugh, though never a loud nor 
a long one among well-bred people. Sudden pas- 
sion is called a short-lived madness ; it is a mad- 
ness indeed, but the fits of it generally return so 
often in choleric people that it may well be called 
a continual madness. Should you happen to be 
of this unfortunate disposition, which God forbid, 
make it your constant study to subdue or at least to 
check it. When you find your choler rising, resolve 
neither to speak to nor answer the person who 
excites it, but stay till you find it subsiding and 
then speak deliberately. I have known many people 
who by the rapidity of their speech have run away 
with themselves into a passion. I will mention to 



TO HIS GODSON. 257 

you a trifling and perhaps you will think a ridiculous 
receipt toward checking the excess of passion, of 
which I think that I have experienced the utility 
myself. Do everything in Menuet time ; speak, 
think, and move always in that mealsure, equally 
free from the dulness of slow or the hurry and 
huddle of quick time. This movement moreover 
will allow you some moments to think forwards, and 
the Graces to accompany what you say or do, for 
they are never represented as either running or 
dozing. Observe a man in a passion ; see his eyes 
glaring, his face inflamed, his limbs trembling, and 
his tongue stammering and faulting with rage, and 
then ask yourself calmly whether you would upon 
any account be that human wild beast. Such crea- 
tures are hated and dreaded in all companies where 
they are let loose, as people do not choose to be 
exposed to the disagreeable necessity of either 
knocking doAvn these brutes or being knocked down 
by them. Do on the contrary endeavor to be cool 
and steady upon all occasions. The advantages of 
such a steady calmness are innumerable and would 
be too tedious to relate. It may be acquired by 
care and reflection. If it could not, that reason 
which distinguishes men from brutes would be 
given us to very little purpose. As a proof of this 
I never saw and scarcely ever heard of a Quaker 
in a passion. In truth there is in that sect a de- 
corum, a decency, and an amiable simplicity that 
I know in no other. Having mentioned the Graces 
in this letter, I cannot end it without recommending 
to you most earnestly the advice of the wisest of the 
17 



258 LETTERS OF LORD CHESTERFIELD 

ancients, — to sacrifice to them devoutly and daily. 
When they are propitious they adorn everything 
and engage everybody. But are they to be ac- 
quired ? Yes, to a certain degree they are, by atten- 
tion, observation, and assiduous worship. Nature, 
I admit, must first have made you capable of adopt- 
ing them, and then observation and imitation will 
make them in time your own. There are graces of 
the mind as well as of the body j the former give an 
easy, engaging turn to the thoughts and the expres- 
sions, the latter to motions, attitude, and address. 
No man perhaps ever possessed them all ; he 
would be too happy that did : but if you will atten- 
tively observe those graceful and engaging manners 
which please you most in other people, you may 
easily collect what will equally please others in you 
and engage the majority of the Graces on your side, 
insure the casting vote, and be returned aimable. 
There are people whom the Precieuse of Moliere 
very justly though very affectedly calls " les Antipodes 
des Graces." If these unhappy people are formed 
by nature invincibly Maussades and awkward, they 
are to be pitied rather than blamed or ridiculed ; 
but nature has disinherited few people to that 
degree. 



X. 



TRUE WIT AND ITS JUDICIOUS USE. 

Bath, Dec. 18, 1765. 
My dear little Boy, — If God gives you wit, 
which I am not sure that I wish you unless He 



TO HIS GODSON. 259 

gives you at the same time an equal portion at 
least of judgment to keep it in good order, wear it 
like your sword in the scabbard and do not bran- 
dish it to the terror of the whole company. If you 
have real wit it will flow spontaneously, and you 
need not aim at it, for in that case the rule of the 
Gospel is reversed, and it will prove, Seek and you 
shall not find. Wit is so shining a quality that 
everybody admires it, most people aim at it, all 
people fear it, and few love it unless in them- 
selves. A man must have a good share of wit 
himself to endure' a great share of it in another. 
When wit exerts itself in satire it is a most malig- 
nant distemper ; wit it is true may be shown in 
satire, but satire does not constitute wit, as most 
fools imagine it does. A man of real wit \vill find 
a thousand better occasions of showing it. Abstain 
therefore most carefully from satire, which though 
it fall upon no particular person in company and 
momentarily from the malignity of the human heart 
pleases all, upon reflection it frightens all too j they 
think it may be their turn next, and will hate you 
for what they find you could say of them more 
than be obhged to you for what you do not say. 
Fear and hatred are next-door neighbors. The 
more wit you have the more good nature and po- 
liteness you must show, to induce people to pardon 
your superiority, for that is no easy matter. . . . The 
character of a man of wit is a shining one that 
every man would have if he could, though it is 
often attended by some inconveniencies ; the dull- 
est alderman even aims at it, cracks his dull joke, 



260 LETTERS OF LORD CHESTERFIELD 

and thinks or at least hopes that it is wit. But 
the denomination of a wit is ahvays formidable 
and very often ridiculous. These titular wits have 
commonly much less wit than petulance and pre- 
sumption. They are at best les rieurs de leur quar- 
tier^ in which narrow sphere they are at once feared 
and admired. You will perhaps ask me, and justly, 
how, honsidering the delusions of self love and van- 
ity, from which no man living is absolutely free, 
how you shall know whether you have wit or not. 
To which the best answer I can give you is, not to 
trust to the voice of your own judgment, for it will 
deceive you; nor to your ears, which will always 
greedily receive flattery, if you are worth being 
flattered ; but trust only to your eyes, and read in 
the countenances of good company their approba- 
tion or dislike of what you say. Observe carefully 
too whether you are sought for, solicited, and in a 
manner pressed into good company. But even all 
this will not absolutely ascertain your wit, therefore 
do not upon this encouragement flash your wit in 
people's faces a ricochets ^ in the shape of bons mots, 
epigrams, smart repartkes, etc. Have rather less 
than more wit than you really have. A wise man 
will live at least as much within his wit as within 
his income. Content yourself with good sense and 
reason, which at long run are sure to please every- 
body who has either. If wit comes into the bar- 
gain, welcome it, but never invite it. Bear this 
truth always in your mind, that you may be admired 
for your wit if you have any, but that nothing but 
good sense and good qualities can make you be 



TO HIS GODSON. 26 1 

loved. They are substantial, every day's wear. Wit 
is for les Jours de gala^ where people go chiefly to 
be stared at. 



XI. 



RAILLERY, MIMICRY, WAGS, AND WITLINGS. 

Dec. 28, 1765. 

My DEAR LITTLE BoY, — There is a species of 
minor wit which is much used and much more 
abused, — I mean Raillery. It is a most mischievous 
and dangerous weapon when in unskilful or clumsy 
hands, and it is much safer to let it quite alone 
than to play with it ; and yet almost everybody does 
play with it, though they see daily the quarrels and 
heart-burnings that it occasions. In truth it implies 
a supposed superiority in the i-ailleiir to the raille ; 
which no man likes even the suspicion of in his 
own case, though it may divert him in other peo- 
ple's. An innocent raillerie is often inoffensively 
begun but very seldom inoffensively ended, for 
that depends upon the raille^ who if he cannot 
defend himself well grows brutal, and if he can, 
very possibly his railleur, baffled and disappointed, 
becomes so. It is a sort of trial of v/it in which 
no man can patiently bear to have his inferiority 
made appear. The character of a railleur is more 
generally feared and more heartily hated than any 
one I know in the world. The injustice of a bad 
man is sooner forgiven than the insult of a witty 



262 LETTERS OF LORD CHESTERFIELD 

one. The former only hurts one's liberty or prop- 
erty, but the latter hurts and mortifies that secret 
pride which no human breast is free from. I will 
allow that there is a sort of raillery which may not 
only be inoffensive but even flattering, as when by 
a genteel irony you accuse people of those imper- 
fections which they are most notoriously free from 
and consequently insinuate that they possess the 
contrary virtues. You may safely call Aristides a 
knave, or a very handsome woman an ugly one ; 
but take care that neither the man's character nor 
the lady's beauty be in the least doubtful. But 
this sort of raillery requires a very light and steady 
hand to administer it. A little too rough, it may 
be mistaken into an offence, and a little too smooth, 
it may be thought a sneer, which is a most odious 
thing. There is another sort, I will not call it of 
wit, but rather of merriment and buffoonry, which 
is mimicry ; the most successful mimic in the world 
is always the most absurd fellow, and an ape is 
infinitely his superior. His profession is to imitate 
and ridicule those natural defects and deformities 
for which no man is in the least accountable, and 
in their imitation of them make themselves for the 
time as disagreeable and shocking as those they 
mimic. But I will say no more of these creatures, 
who only amuse the lowest rabble of mankind. 
There is another sort of human animals called 
wags^ whose profession is to make the company 
laugh immoderately, and who always succeed pro- 
vided the company consist of fools, but who are 
greatly disappointed in finding that they never can 



TO HIS GODSON. 263 

alter a muscle in the face of a man of sense. This 
is a most contemptible character and never es- 
teemed, even by those who are silly enough to be 
diverted by them. Be content both for yourself 
with sound good sense and good manners, and let 
wit be thrown into the bargain where it is proper 
and inoffensive. Good sense will make you be es- 
teemed, good manners be loved, and wit give a 
lustre to both. 



XII. 



THE COXCOMB. —THE TIMID MAN. 

Jem. 2, 1766. 

My dear LITTLE BoY, — If there is a lawful and 
proper object of raillery it seems to be a coxcomb, 
as an usurper of the common rights of mankind. 
But here some precautions are necessary. Some 
wit and great presumption constitute a coxcomb, 
for a true coxcomb must have parts. The most 
consummate coxcomb I ever knew was a man of 
the most wit, but whose wit, bloated with presump- 
tion, made him too big for any company, where he 
always usurped the seat of empire and crowded out 
common sense. Raillerie seems to be a proper rod 
for these offenders, but great caution and skill are 
necessary in the use of it or you may happen to 
catch a Tartar as they call it, and then the laughers 
will be against you. The best way with these peo- 
ple is to let them quite alone and give them rope 
enough. On the other hand there are many and 



264 LETTERS OF LORD CHESTERFIELD 

perhaps more who suffer from their timidity and 
mauvaise hontej which sink them infinitely below 
their level. Timidity is generally taken for stupidity, 
which for the most part it is not, but proceeds from 
a want of education in good company. Mr. Addi- 
son was the most timid and awkward man in good 
company I ever saw, and no wonder, for he had 
been wholly cloistered up in the cells of Oxford till 
he was five and twenty years old. La Bruyere says, 
and there is a great deal of truth in it, ** qu'on ne 
vaut dans ce monde que ce que Ton veut valoir ; " 
for in this respect mankind show great indulgence 
and value people at pretty near the price they set 
upon themselves, if it be not exorbitant. I could 
wish you to have a cool intrepid assurance with 
great seeming modesty, — never demonte and never 
forward. Very awkward timid people who have 
not been used to good company are either ridicu- 
lously bashful or absurdly impudent. I have known 
many a man impudent from shamefacedness, en- 
deavoring to act a reasonable assurance and lashing 
himself up to what he imagines to be a proper and 
easy behavior. A very timid bashful man is anni- 
hilated in good company, especially of his superiors. 
He does not know what he says or does and is in a 
ridiculous agitation both of body and mind. Avoid 
both these extremes and endeavor to possess your- 
self with coolness and steadiness. Speak to the 
King with full as Httle concern (though with more 
respect) as you would to your equals. This is the 
distinguishing characteristic of a gentleman and a 
man of the world. The way to acquire this most 



TO HIS GODSON. 26$ 

necessary behavior is, as I have told you before, to 
keep company, whatever difficulty it may cost you 
at first, with your superiors and with women of 
fashion, instead of taking refuge as too many young 
people do in low and bad company in order to 
avoid the restraint of good breeding. It is, I con- 
fess, a pretty difficult, not to say an impossible thing, 
for a young man at his first appearance in the 
world and unused to the ways and manners of it, 
not to be disconcerted and embarrassed. When he 
first comes into what is called the best company, he 
sees that they stare at him, and if they happen to 
laugh he is sure that they laugh at him. This awk- 
wardness is not to be blamed, as it often proceeds 
from laudable causes, from a modest diffidence of 
himself and a consciousness of not yet knowing the 
modes and manners of good company ; but let him 
persevere with a becoming modesty and he will find 
that all people of good nature and good breeding 
will assist and help him out instead of laughing at 
him, and then a very little usage of the world and 
an attentive observation will soon give him a proper 
knowledge of it. It is the characteristic of low and 
bad company, which commonly consists of wags and 
witlings, to laugh at, disconcert, and as they call it 
bamboozle a young fellow of ingenuous modesty. 
You will tell me perhaps that to do all this one 
must have a good share of vanity ; I grant it, but 
the great point is ne quid ?ii??iis, for I fear that 
Monsieur de la Rochefoucault's maxim is too true, 
" que la vertu n'iroit pas loin, si la vanite ne lui tenoit 
pas compagnie." A man who despairs of pleasing 



266 LETTERS OF LORD CHESTERFIELD 

will never please ; a man who is sure that he shall 
always please wherever he goes, is a coxcomb ; but 
the man who hopes and endeavors to please, and 
believes that he may, will most infallibly please. 

XIII. 

THE " MAN OF SPIRIT." — SCANDAL AND INSINUATION. 

Jan. 10, 1766. 

My DEAR LITTLE BoY, — I know that you are gener- 
ous and benevolent in your nature, but that, though 
the principal point, is not quite enough ; you must 
seem so too. I do not mean ostentatiously, but do not 
be ashamed as many young fellows are of owning the 
laudable sentiments of good-nature and humanity 
which you really feel. I have known many young 
men who desired to be reckoned men of spirit af- 
fect a hardness and an unfeehngness which in real- 
ity they never had. Their conversation is in the 
decisive and minatory tone ; they are for breaking 
bones, cutting off ears, throwing people out of the 
window, etc., and all these fine declarations they 
ratify with horrible and silly oaths. All this is to 
be thought men of spirit ! Astonishing error this, 
which necessarily reduces them to this dilemma, — 
if they really mean what they say, they are brutes, 
and if they do not, they are fools for saying it. This 
however is a common character amongst young 
men. Carefully avoid this contagion and content 
yourself with being calmly and mildly resolute and 
steady when you are thoroughly convinced that you 
are in the right, for this is true spirit. What is 



TO HIS GODSON. 267 

commonly called in the world a man or a woman 
of spirit, are the two most detestable and most dan- 
gerous animals that inhabit it. They are wrong- 
headed, captious, jealous, offended without reason 
and offending with as little. The man of spirit has 
immediate recourse to his sword and the woman of 
spirit to her tongue, and it is hard to say which of 
the two is the most mischievous weapon. It is too 
usual a thing in many companies to take the tone 
of scandal and defamation ; some gratify their ma- 
lice and others think that they show their wit by it. 
But I hope that you will never adopt this tone. 
On the contrary do you always take the favorable 
side of the question, and, without an offensive and 
flat contradiction, seem to doubt, and represent the 
uncertainty of reports, where private malice is at 
leapt very apt to mingle itself. This candid and 
temperate behavior will please the whole uncandid 
company, though a sort of gentle contradiction to 
their unfavorable insinuations, as it makes them hope 
that they may in their turns find an advocate in you. 
There is another kind of offensiveness often used in 
company, which is to throw out hints and insinua- 
tions only applicable to and felt by one or two per- 
sons in the company, who are consequently both 
embarrassed and angry, and the more so as they 
are the more unwilling to show that they apply 
these hints to themselves. Have a watch over 
yourself never to say anything that either the whole 
company or any one person in it can reasonably or 
probably take ill, and remember the French saying, 
"qu'iJ ^e faut pas parler de corde dans la maison 



268 LETTERS OF LORD CHESTERFIELD 

d'un pendu." Good- nature universally charms even 
all those who have none, and it is impossible to be 
aimable without both the reality and the appear- 
ances of it. 

XIV. 

VANITY. — FEIGNED SELF-CONDEMNATION. 

Jan. 14, 1766. 

My dear little Boy, — The Egotism is the usual 
and favorite figure of most people's rhetoric, which 
I hope you will never adopt, but on the contrary 
most scrupulously avoid. Nothing is more dis- 
agreeable nor irksome to the company than to hear 
a man either praising or condemning himself: for 
both proceed from the same motive, vanity. I 
would allow no man to speak of himself unless in a 
Court of Justice in his own defence, or as a witness. 
Shall a man speak in his own praise, however justly ? 
No. The hero of his own little tale always puzzles 
and disgusts the company, who do not know What 
to say nor how to look. Shall he blame himself? 
No. Vanity is as much the motive of his self- 
condemnation as of his own panegyric. I have 
known many people take shame to themselves, and 
with a modest contrition confess themselves guilty 
of most of the cardinal virtues. They have such a 
weakness in their nature that they cannot help 
being too much moved with the misfortunes and 
miseries of their fellow-creatures, which they feel 
perhaps more but at least as much as they do their 
own. Their generosity, they are sensible, is impru- 



TO HIS GODSON. 269 

dence, for they are apt to carry it too far, from the 
weak though irresistible beneficence of their nature. 
They are possibly too jealous of their honor, and 
too irascible whenever they think that it is touched ; 
and this proceeds from their unhappy warm con- 
stitution, which makes them too tender and sensible 
upon that point. And so on of all the virtues pos- 
sible. A poor trick, and a wretched instance of 
human vanity that defeats its own purpose. Do 
you be sure never to speak of yourself, for yourself, 
nor against yourself; but let your character speak 
for you. Whatever that says will be believed, but 
whatever you say of it will not, and only make you 
odious or ridiculous. Be constantly upon your 
guard against the various snares and effects of vanity 
and self-love. It is impossible to extinguish them ; 
they are without exception in every human breast, 
and in the present state of nature it is very right 
that they should be so ; but endeavor to keep them 
within due bounds, which is very possible. In this 
case dissimulation is almost meritorious, and the 
seeming modesty of the hero or of the patriot 
adorns their other virtues ; I use the word of '' seem- 
ing," for their valets de chambre know better. 
Vanity is the more odious and shocking to every- 
body, because everybody without exception has 
vanity; and two vanities can never love one an- 
other, any more than according to the vulgar 
saying, two of a trade can. 



270 LETTERS OF LORD CHESTERFIELD 
XY. 

ATTENTION. — THE SENSE OF PROPRIETY. 

yan. 21, 1766. 

My DEAR LITTLE BoY, — I have more than once 
recommended to you in the course of our corres- 
pondence Attention, but I shall frequently recur to 
that subject, which is as inexhaustible as it is impor- 
tant. Attend carefully in the first place to human 
nature in general, which is pretty much the same in 
all human creatures and varies chiefly by modes, 
habits, education, and example. Analyze, and if I 
may use the expression, anatomize it. Study your 
own, and that will lead you to know other people's. 
Carefully observe the words, the looks, and gestures 
of the whole company you are in, and retain all 
their Httle singularities, humors, tastes, antipathies, 
and affections, which will enable you to please or 
avoid them occasionally as your judgment may 
direct you. I will give you the most trifling in- 
stance of this that can be imagined, and yet will be 
sure to please. If you invite anybody to dinner 
you should take care to provide those things which 
you have observed them to like more particularly, 
and not to have those things which you know they 
have an antipathy to. These trifling things go a 
great way in the art of pleasing, and the more so 
from being so trifling that they are flattering proofs 
of your regard for the persons even to minucies. 
These things are what the French call des attentions^ 
which (to do them justice) they study and practise 



TO HIS GODSON. 27 1 

more than any people in Europe. Attend to and 
look at whoever speaks to you \ and never seem dis- 
trait or reveur, as if you did not hear them at all, 
for nothing is more contemptuous and consequently 
more shocking. It is true you will by these means 
often be obliged to attend to things not worth any- 
body's attention, but it is a necessary sacrifice to be 
made to good manners in society. A minute atten- 
tion is also necessary to time, place, and characters. 
A bon mot in one company is not so in another, but 
on the contrary may prove offensive. Never joke 
with those whom you obser\'e to be at that time 
pensive and grave ; and on the other hand do not 
preach and moralize in a company full of mirth and 
gayety. Many people come into company full of 
what they intend to say in it themselves without the 
least regard to others, and thus charged up to the 
muzzle are resolved to let it off at any rate. I 
knew a man who had a story about a gun which he 
thought a good one and that he told it very well ; 
he tried all means in the world to turn the conver- 
sation upon guns, but if he failed in his attempt he 
started in his chair and said he heard a gun fired, 
but when the company assured him that they heard 
no such thing, he answered, " Perhaps then I was 
mistaken but however, since we are talking of guns ; " 
— and then told his story, to the great indignation 
of the company. Become, as far as with innocence 
and honor you can, all things to all men, and you 
will gain a great many. Have des prevenances to, 
and say or do what you judge beforehand will be 
most agreeable to them without their hinting at or 



2/2 LETTERS OF LORD CHESTERFIELD 

expecting it. It would be endless to specify the 
numberless opportunities that every man has of 
pleasing if he will but make use of them. Your 
own good sense will suggest them to you, and your 
good-nature and even your interest will induce you 
to practise them. Great attention is to be had to 
times and seasons ; for example, at meals, talk often 
but never long at a time, for the frivolous bustle of 
the servants, and often the more frivolous conver- 
sation of the guests, which chiefly turns upon 
kitchen-stuff and cellar-stuff, will not bear any long 
reasonings or relations. Meals are and were always 
reckoned the moments of relaxation of the mind, 
and sacred to easy mirth and social cheerfulness. 
Conform to this custom and furnish your quota of 
good-humor, but be not induced by example to the 
frequent excess of gluttony or intemperance. The 
former inevitably produces dulness, the latter mad- 
ness. Observe the a propos in everything you say 
or do. In conversing with those who are much 
your superiors, however easy and familiar you may 
and ought to be with them, preserve the respect 
that is due to them. Converse with your equals 
with an easy familiarity and at the same time with 
great civility and decency. But too much familiar- 
ity, according to the old saying, often breeds con- 
tempt and sometimes quarrels ; and I know nothing 
more difficult in common behavior than to fix due 
bounds to familiarity; too little implies an unso- 
ciable formahty, too much destroys all friendly and 
social intercourse. The best rule I can give you to 
manage familiarity, is never to be more familiar 



TO HIS GODSON. 2^1 

with anybody than you would be willing and even 
glad that he should be with you ; on the other hand 
avoid that uncomfortable reserve and coldness which 
is generally the shield of cunning, or the protection 
of dulness. The Italian maxim is a wise one, " Volto 
sciolto e pensieri stretti ; " that is, let your counte- 
nance be open, and your thoughts be close. To 
your inferiors you should use a hearty benevolence 
in your words and actions instead of a refined po- 
liteness which would be apt to make them suspect 
that you rather laughed at them. For example, you 
must show civility to a mere country gentleman in a 
very different manner from w^hat you do to a man 
of the world. Your reception of him should seem 
hearty and rather coarse to reheve him from the 
embarrassment of his own mauvaise honte. Have 
attention even in company of fools, for though they 
are fools they may perhaps drop or repeat something 
worth your knowing and which you may profit by. 
Never talk your best in the company of fools, for 
they would not understand you, and would perhaps 
suspect that you jeered them, as they commonly call 
it ; but talk only the plainest common- sense to them, 
and very gravely, for there is no jesting nor badinage 
with them. Upon the whole with attention and les 
attentions you will be sure to please ; without them 
you will be as sure to offend. 



i8 



274 LETTERS OF LORD CHEST-ERFIELD 
XVI. 

AFFECTATIONS. — POLITE CONVERSATION. 

[vVb Date:\ 
My dear little Boy, — Carefully avoid all affec- 
tation either of mind or body. It is a very true 
and a very trite observation that no man is ridiculous 
for being what he really is, but for affecting to be 
what he is not. No man is awkward by nature, but 
by affecting to be genteel ; and I have known many 
a man of common- sense pass generally for a fool, 
because he affected a degree of wit that God had 
denied him. A ploughman is by no means awkward 
in the exercise of his trade, but would be exceed- 
ingly ridiculous if he attempted the air and graces 
of a man of fashion. You learned to dance, but it 
was not for the sake of dancing, but it was to bring 
your air and motions back to what they would 
naturally have been if they had had fair play, and 
had not been warped in your youth by bad exam- 
ples and awkward imitations of other boys. Nature 
may be cultivated and improved both as to the body 
and as to the mind ; but it is not to be extinguished 
by art, and all endeavors of that kind are absurd, 
and an inexhaustible fund for ridicule. Your body 
and mind must be at ease to be agreeable ; but 
affectation is a perpetual constraint under which no 
man can be genteel in his carriage or pleasing in 
his conversation. Do you think that your motions 
would be easy or graceful if you wore the clothes of 
another man much slenderer or taller than yourself? 



TO HIS GODSON. 2/5 

Certainly not ; it is the same thing with the mind, 
if you affect a character that does not fit you, and 
that Nature never intended for you. But here do 
not mistake and think that it follows from hence 
that you should exhibit your whole character to the 
public because it is your natural one. No ; many 
things must be suppressed, and many occasionally 
concealed in the best character. Never force 
Nature, but it is by no means necessary to show it 
all. Here discretion must come to your assistance, 
that sure and safe guide through life, — discretion, 
that necessary companion to reason, and the useful 
garde-fou, if I may use that expression, to wit and 
imagination. Discretion points out the d, propos^ 
the decorum^ the ne quid nimis ; and will carry a 
man of moderate parts further than the most shining 
parts would without it. It is another word for "judg- 
ment," though not quite synonymous to it. Judg- 
ment is not upon all occasions required, but discre- 
tion always is. Never affect nor assume a particular 
character, for it will never fit you, but will probably 
give you a ridicule ; but leave it to your conduct, 
your virtues, your morals, and your manners to give 
you one. Discretion will teach you to have particu- 
lar attention to your mceurs, which we have no one 
word in our language to express exactly. "Morals " 
are too much, " manners " too little ; " decency " 
comes the nearest to it, though rather short of it. 
Cicero's word " decorum " is properly the thing, 
and I see no reason why that expressive word should 
not be adopted and naturalized in our language ; I 
have never scrupled using it in that sense. A propos 



2/6 LETTERS OF LORD CHESTERFIELD 

of words, study your own language more carefully 
than most English people do. Get a habit of 
speaking it with propriety and elegancy. For there 
are few things more disagreeable than to hear a 
gentleman talk the barbarisms, the solecisms, and 
the vulgarisms of porters. Avoid, on the other hand, 
a stiff and formal accuracy, especially what the 
women call "hard words," when plain ones as 
expressive are at hand. The French make it a 
study to " bien narrer," and to say the truth they 
are apt to " narrer trop," and with too affected an 
elegancy. The three commonest topics of conver- 
sation are religion, politics, and news. All people 
think that they understand the two first perfectly, 
though they never studied either, and are therefore 
very apt to talk of them both dogmatically and 
ignorantly, consequently with warmth. But religion 
is by no means a proper subject for conversation in 
a mixed company. It should only be treated among 
a very few people of learning for mutual instruction. 
It is too awful and respectable a subject to become 
a familiar one. Therefore never mingle yourself in 
it, any further than to express a universal toleration 
and indulgence to all errors in it, if conscientiously 
entertained \ for every man has as good a right to 
think as he does as you have to think as you do ; 
nay, in truth he cannot help it. As for politics, 
they are still more universally understood, and as 
every one thinks his private interest more or less 
concerned in them, nobody hesitates to pronounce 
decisively upon them, not even the ladies; the 
copiousness of whose eloquence is more to be ad- 



TO HIS GODSON, 2 J J 

mired upon that subject than the conclusiveness of 
their logic. It will be impossible for you to avoid 
engaging in these conversations, for there are hardly 
any others ; but take care to do it ver}^ coolly and 
with great good-humor; and whenever you find 
that the company begins to be heated and noisy 
for the good of their country, be only a patient 
hearer ; unless you can interpose by some agreeable 
badinage and restore good-humor to the company. 
And here I cannot help observing to you that 
nothing is more useful either to put off or to 
parry disagreeable and puzzling affairs, than a good- 
humored and genteel badinage. I have found it so 
by long experience, but this badinage must not be 
carried to mauvaise plaisanterie. It must be light 
without being frivolous, sensible without being in 
the least sententious, and in short have that pleasing 
je ne sais quoi, which everj^body feels, and nobody 
can describe. 

XVII. 

EPITAPH ON A WIFE. 

Black-heath, Mercredi, 4 yuin [ 1766 ]. 
MoN CHER PETIT Drole, — Ne ncgligeous pas 
le Francois, qu'il faut que vous sachiez parler et 
ecrire corr^ctement et avec elegance. Un honnete 
homme doit scavoir I'Anglois et le Frangois 4gale- 
ment bien, I'Anglois parceque c'est votre propre 
langue, et que ce seroit honteux d'en ignorer 
meme les minucies, et le Francois parceque c'est 
en quelque fagon la langue universelle. Voicy done 



2/8 LETTERS OF LORD CHESTERFLELD 

un epitaphe que fit un homme sur la mort de sa 
femme, qui lui ^toit fort incommode et dont il 
6toit fort las. 

Cy git ma femme. Ah! qu'elle est bien 
Pour son repos et pour le mien. 



XVIII. 

EVERY MAN THE ARCHITECT OF HIS OWN 
FORTUNE. 

Black-heath, Aug. 26, 1766. 

My DEAR LITTLE Boy, — Your French letter was 
a very good one, considering how long you have 
been disused to write in that language. There are 
indeed some few faults in it, which I will show you 
when we meet next, for I keep your letter by me 
for that purpose. One cannot correct one's fauhs 
without knowing them, and I always looked upon 
those who told me of mine as friends, instead of 
being displeased or angry, as people in general are 
too apt to be. You say that I laugh at you when 
I tell you that you may very probably in time be 
Secretary of State. No, I am very serious in saying 
that you may if you please, if you take the proper 
methods to be so. Writing well and speaking well 
in public are the necessary qualifications for it, and 
they are very easily acquired by attention and ap- 
plication. In all events, aim at it ; and if you do 
not get it, let it be said of you what was said of 
Phaethon, " Magnis tamen excidit ausis." 

Every man of a generous, noble spirit desires 



TO HIS GODSON. 2/9 

first to please and then to shine ; Facere digna 
scribi vel scribere digna legi. Fools and indolent 
people lay all their disappointments to the charge 
of their ill fortune, but there is no such thing as 
good or ill fortune. Every man makes his own 
fortune in proportion to his merit. An ancient 
author whom you are not yet, but will in time be, 
acquainted with says very justly, " Nullum numen 
abest si sit prudentia ; nos te fortuna Deam facimus 
caeloque locamus." Prudence there means those 
qualifications and that conduct that will command 
fortune. Let that be your motto and have it always 
in your mind. I was sure that you would soon come 
to like your voluntary study, and I will appeal to 
yourself, could you employ that hour more agree- 
ably? And is it not better than what thoughtless 
boys of your age commonly call play, which is run- 
ning about without any object or design and only 
pour tiie?' le temps ? Faire des 7'iens is the most 
miserable abuse and loss of time that can possibly 
be imagined. You must know that I have in the 
main a great opinion of you ; therefore take great 
care and pains not to forfeit it. And so God bless 
you. A^on progredi est regredi. 



XIX. 

INATTENTION. —/fCC AGE 



Black-heath, Oct. 4, 1766. 
My dear little Boy, — Amoto quaeramus seria 
ludo. I have often trifled with you in my letters and 



28o LETTERS OF LORD CHESTERFIELD 

there is no harm in trifling sometimes. Dr. Swift 
used often to say, " Vive la bagatelle," but everything 
has its proper season ; and when I consider your age 
now it is proper, I think, to be sometimes serious. 
You know I love you mightily, and I find but one sin- 
gle fault with you. You are the best-natured boy; 
you have good parts and an excellent memory ; but 
now to your fault, which you may so easily correct 
that I am astonished that your own good sense does 
not make you do it. It is your giddiness and inatten- 
tion which you confessed to me. You know that with- 
out a good stock of learning you can never, when 
you are a man, be received in good company ; and 
the only way to acquire that stock is to apply with 
attention and diligence to whatever you are taught. 
The hoc age is of the utmost consequence in every 
part of life. No man can do or think of two things 
at a time to any purpose, and whoever does two 
things at once is sure to do them both ill. It is the 
characteristic of a futile, frivolous man to be doing 
one thing and at the same time thinking of another. 
Do not imagine that I would have you plod and 
study all day long; no, leave that to dull boys. 
On the contrary I would have you divert yourself 
and be as gay as ever you please ; but while you 
are learning, mind that only, and think of nothing 
else ; it will be the sooner over. They tell an idle 
story of Julius Caesar that he dictated to six secre- 
taries at once and upon different businesses. This 
I am sure is as false as it is absurd, for Caesar had 
too good sense to do any two things at once. I am 
sure that for the future you will attend diligently to 



TO HIS GODSON. 28 1 

whatever you are doing, and that for two reasons ; 
the one is that your own good sense at eleven years 
old will show you not only the ufility but the ne- 
cessity of learning, the other is that if you love me 
as I believe you do, you will cheerfully do what I 
so earnestly ask of you for your own sake only. 
When I see you next, which shall not be very long, 
first I flatter myself that the Doctor will give 
me a very good account of your close attention. 
Good-night. 



XX. 



THE PRIDE OF RANK AND BIRTH. 

Bath, Nov. 5, 1766. 
My DEAR LITTLE BoY, — See how punctual I am ; 
I told you that I would write to you first from 
hence ; I arrived here but yesterday, and I write to- 
day. When I saw you last Sunday you assured me 
that you had a clear conscience ; and I believe it, 
for I cannot suppose you could be guilty of so 
horrible a crime as that of asserting an untruth. 
To say the truth I think you have but few faults ; 
and as I perceive them I shall make it my business 
to correct them, and assume the office of censor. 
If I mistake not, I have discovered in that little 
heart some lurking seeds of pride, which nature, 
who has been very kind to you, never sowed there, 
but were transplanted there by vulgar folly and 
adulation at Mansfield. You were there my Young 
Squire, and sometimes, perhaps, by anticipation my 



282 LETTERS OF LORD CHESTERFIELD 

Young Lord. Well, and what then ? Do not you 
feel that you owe those advantages wholly to chance, 
and not to any merit of your own ? Are you better 
born, as silly people call it, than the servant who 
wipes your shoes ? Not in the least ; he had a father 
and a mother, and they had fathers and mothers 
and grandfathers and grandmothers and so on, up 
to the first creation of the human species, and is 
consequently of as ancient a family as yourself.^ 
It is true your family has been more lucky than his, 
but not one jot better. You will find in Ulysses's 
speech for the armor of Achilles this sensible ob- 
servation : " Nam genus et proavos, et quae non 
fecimus ipsi vix ea nostra voco." 

Moreover you desire, and very laudably, to please ; 
which if you have any pride is absolutely impos- 
sible, for there is not in nature so hateful and so 
ridiculous a character as that of a man who is 
proud of his birth and rank. All people hate and 
ridicule him ; he is mimicked and has nick-names 
given him, such as " the Sovereign," " the Sublime," 
" the Stately," etc. I allow you to be proud of su- 
perior merit and learning when you have them, but 
that is not the blameable and absurd pride of birth 

1 There is a story illustrative of this passage and char- 
acteristic of Lord Chesterfield's humor. A picture of a man 
and woman and two boys with the Stanhope Arms in the 
corner was given by some one to Lord Chesterfield, as an 
evidence of family antiquity. He accepted the gift and 
wrote under it, " Adam Stanhope of Eden Garden and Eve 
Stanhope his wife, with their two sons, Cain Stanhope and 
Abel Stanhope." See Mrs, Carter's Letters from 1741 to 
1770, i. 32. — Earl of Carnarvon : Memoir of Chesterfield. 



TO HIS GODSON. 283 



and rank that I mean ; on the contrary, it is a blame- 
less and pardonable vanity, if not carried too far. 



XXI. 

SHINING THOUGHTS OF ANCIENT AND MODERN 
AUTHORS. 

Saturday Morning [^amiary, 1767]. 

My Dear Boy, — 

I send you a book which I think must gratify 
your love of variety. It is a collection of the most 
shining thoughts both of the ancients and of the 
moderns, compiled by the famous Pere Bouhours, 
a Jesuit, a man of great parts and sound judgment. 
I endeavor to stock your mind with the most ingeni- 
ous thoughts of other people, in hopes that they may 
suggest to you materials for thinking yourself; for 
an honest man will no more live upon the credit of 
other people's thoughts than of their fortune. When, 
therefore, you dip into this book, and that any 
thought pleases you much, ask yourself why it pleases 
you, and examine whether it is founded upon truth 
and nature, for nothing else can please at long run. 
Tinsel false thoughts may impose upon one for a 
short time, like false money ; but sterling coin alone 
will always and everywhere pass current. God bless 
you and make you both an honest and an able man, 
but the former above all things. 



284 LETTERS OF LORD CHESTERFIELD 

XXII. 

AVARICE AND AMBITION. 

Monday Morning [March^ 1767]. 
My dear Boy, — I was very glad to hear that in 
one of your late essays you preferred ambition to 
avarice, and indeed there is hardly any comparison 
between them. Avarice is a mean, ignoble, and 
dirty passion ; I never knew a miser that had any 
one great or good quality ; but ambition, even where 
it is a vice, is at least the vice of a gentleman. 
Ambition, according to its object, is either blamable 
or commendable. Tyrants and conquerors, who 
ravage and desolate the world, and trample upon 
all the rights of mankind to gratify their ambition, 
are doubtless the greatest and most dangerous of 
all criminals. But an ambition to excel others in 
all virtuous and laudable things is not only blame- 
less, but highly meritorious, and should extend from 
the least to the greatest objects. You may and I 
hope have that ambition in your little sphere. I 
remember that when I was of your age, I had a strong 
ambition to excel all my contemporaries in what- 
ever was praiseworthy. I labored hard to outstrip 
them in learning; I was mortified if in our little 
plays they seemed more dexterous than I was ; nay, 
I was uneasy if they danced, walked, or sat more 
genteelly than myself. Those little things are by 
no means to be neglected, for they are of more use 
in the common intercourse of life than you imagine 
them to be, especially in your profession, which is 



TO HIS GODSON. 28$ 

speaking in public. I say in your professiofi^ for 
you must excel in that or you will be nobody. You 
guess, I am sure, that I mean speaking well, both 
in public assembhes and in private conversation. 
Cicero speaks of eloquence as the principal object 
of a laudable ambition, and asserts it to be the chief 
distinction between man and beast. ** Quam ob rem 
quis hoc non jure miretur, summeque in eo elabo- 
randum esse arbitretur, ut, quo uno homines maxime 
bestiis praestent, in hoc hominibus ipsis antecellat." 
This is one kind of ambition, whose object is pleas- 
ure and public utility, and consequently merito- 
rious. Oh, what exquisite joy must it give an honest 
man (you see I endeavor to imitate your florid 
eloquence) to see multitudes hang upon his tongue, 
and persuaded to adopt his opinion instead of their 
own ! — if they had any, for very often they have none, 
and if they have, it is probably an erroneous one. 
I send you herewith an excellent collection of Cicero's 
thoughts upon various subjects, the Latin on one side, 
and the French translation by L'Abbe d' Olivet on 
the other, which French translation will enable you 
to understand the original Latin better than can be 
expected at your age. I have marked what he says 
upon eloquence ; read it with attention. God bless 
my boy. 



286 LETTERS OF LORD CHESTERFIELD 



XXIII. 

THE ENDEAVOR TO ATTAIN PERFECTION. —SPORT- 
ING TASTES. 

Bath, Nov. 17, 1767. 
My dear LITTLE BoY, — Your last letter was so 
good a one that had it not been for Dr. Dodd's 
attestation that it was all your own, I should have 
thought it a translation of one of Cicero's or PHny's, 
those two acknowledged standards of epistolary 
perfection. However, go on, and strive to attain to 
absolute perfection in writing, as in everything else 
that you do ; for though absolute perfection is 
denied to human nature, those who take the most 
pains to arrive at it will come the nearest to it. 
The famous disturber and scourge of mankind, 
Charles the Twelfth of Sweden, in his low camp 
style used to say that by resolution and perseverance 
a man might do everything. ... I own I cannot 
entirely agree with his Swedish Majesty; but so 
much I will venture to say, that every man may by 
unremitting application and endeavors, do much 
more than at the first setting out he thought it 
possible that he ever could do. Learn to distin- 
guish between difficulties and impossibilities, which 
many people do not. The silly and the sanguine 
look upon impossibiUties to be only difficulties ; as 
on the other hand the lazy and the timorous take 
every difficulty for an impossibiUty. A greater 
knowledge of the world will teach you the proper 
medium between those two extremes. I approve 



TO HIS GODSON. 28/ 

greatly of your father's method of shooting his 
game with his pen only, and heartily wish that when 
you have game of your own you may use no other. 
For my part I never in my life killed my own meat, 
but left it to the poulterer and butcher to do it for 
me. All those country sports, as they are called, 
are the effects of the ignorance and idleness of 
country esquires, who do not know what to do with 
their time ; but people of sense and knowledge never 
give in to those illiberal amusements. You make 
me fair promises in your letter of what you will do ; 
but remember that at the same time you give me 
great claims upon you, for I look upon your prom- 
ises to be engagements upon the word and honor 
of a gentleman, which I hope you will never violate 
upon this or any other occasion. I have long ago 
and often repeated to you " qu'un homme d'honneur 
n'a que sa parole." God bless you. 
My compliments to your whole house. 



XXIV. 

THE TREATMENT OF INFERIORS. 

Black-heath, Tuesday. 
My dear Boy, — You behaved yourself last Sat- 
urday very much like a gentleman, and better than 
any boy in England of your age would or could 
have done. Go on so, and when you are a man you 
will be with more acquaintance with the world and 
good company what I most earnestly wish you to be, 
the best bred and consequently the best liked gen- 



288 LETTERS OF LORD CHESTERFIELD 

tleman in England. Good breeding, and a certain 
suavitas morum, shines and charms in every situation 
of Ufe with relation to all sorts and ranks of people, 
as well the lowest as the highest. There is a degree 
of good breeding towards those who are greatly 
your inferiors which is in truth common humanity 
and good-nature ; and yet I have known some per- 
sons who in other respects were well bred brutal to 
their servants and dependents. This is mean, and 
implies a hardness of heart, and is what I am sure 
you never will be guilty of. When you use the im- 
perative mood to your servants or dependents, who 
are your equals by nature (and only your inferiors by 
the malice of their fortune) , you will add some soft- 
ening word, such as "pray do so and so," or " I wish 
3^ou would do so." You cannot conceive how much 
that suavity of manners will endear you to every- 
body, even to those who have it not themselves. In 
high life there are a thousand minucies of good 
breeding which though minucies in themselves are 
so necessary and agreeable as to deserve your ut- 
most attention and imitation, — as for instance what 
the French call " le bon ton " or " le ton de la bonne 
compagnie," by which is meant the fashionable tone 
of good company. This consists of many trifling ar- 
ticles in themselves which when cast up and added 
together make a total of infinite consequence. 

Observe and adopt all those little graces and 
modes of the best company. Suppose two men of 
equal abilities employed in the same business, but 
one of them perfectly well bred and engaging, and 
the other \vith only the common run of civility ; the 



TO HIS GODSON. 289 

former will certainly succeed much better and 
sooner than the latter. 



XXV. 

THE FALSE PRIDE OF RANK. 

Black-heath, July 16, 1768. 
I dare say you know, and perhaps too well, that in 
time probably you will have a title and a good 
estate ; but I dare say you know too that you will 
owe them merely to chance and not to any merit of 
your own, be your merit never so great. Whenever 
you come to the possession of them, there will be 
people enough mean and absurd enough to flatter 
you upon them. Be upon your guard against such 
wretches, and be assured that they must think you a 
fool and that they have private views to gratify by 
such impudent adulation. The most absurd char- 
acter that I know of in the world, and the finest food 
for satire and ridicule, is a sublime and stately man 
of quality, who without one grain of any merit struts 
pompously in all the dignity of an ancient descent 
from a longy restive race of droning kings, or more 
probably derived to him from fool to fool. I could 
name many men of great quality and fortune who 
would pass through the world quietly, unknown and 
unlaughed at, were it not for those accidental ad- 
vantages upon which they value themselves and 
treat their inferiors, as they call them, with arrogance 
and contempt. But I never knew a man of quality 
and fortune respected upon those accounts unless he 
19 



290 LETTERS OF LORD CHESTERFIELD 

was humble with his title, and extensively generous 
and beneficent with his fortune. "My Lord " is be- 
come a ridiculous nick-name for those proud fools, — 
'' See, My Lord comes," '' There 's My Lord ; " that is, 
in other words, " See the puppy," " There is the block- 
head." I am sure you would by all means avoid 
ridicule, for it sticks longer even than an injury j and 
to avoid it, wear your title as if you had it not ; but 
for your estate, let distress and want even without 
merit feel that you have one. I remember four fine 
lines of Voltaire, upon this subject : — 

" Repandez vos bienfaits avec magnificence, 
Meme aux moins vertueux ne les refusez pas ; 
Ne vous informez pas de leur reconnoissance, 
II est grand, il est beau, de faire des ingrats." 

By these virtues you may dignify your title when 
you have one, but remember that your title without 
them can never dignify you. Nothing is more 
common than pride without dignity. A man of 
sense and virtue will always have dignity; but a 
fool, if shuffled by chance into great rank and for- 
tune, will be proud of both. There is as much differ- 
ence between pride and dignity as there is between 
power and authority. Power may fall to the share 
of a Nero or a Caligula, but authority can only be 
the attendant of the confidence mankind have in 
your sense and virtue. Aristides and Cato had 
authority. 



TO HIS GODSON. 29I 

XXVI. 

THE STRICT VERACITY OF A GENTLEMAN. 

Black-heath, July 30, 1768. 
My DEAR Boy, — My two objects in your educa- 
tion are and always have been to give you learning 
enough to distinguish yourself in Parliament, and 
manners to shine in courts. The former is in the 
best hands. Dr. Dodd'sj but the latter department 
I shall undertake myself, from my long experience 
and knowledge of the ways of the world. I am 
sure you would be a gentleman, and I am as sure 
that I would by all means have you one. " A gentle- 
man" is a complex term, answers exactly to the 
French word " honnete homme," and comprehends 
manners, decorum, politeness, but above all strict 
veracity; for without that all the accomplishments 
in the world avail nothing. A man who is once 
detected in a lie — and every liar is sooner or later 
detected — is irrecoverably sunk into infamy. No- 
body will believe him afterwards even upon his oath. 
To tell a man that he lies is the greatest affront that 
can be offered him, and according to the mad but 
indispensable custom of the world, can only be 
washed off by blood. If a man gives another the 
lie, though ever so justly, what must the liar do? 
He must fight him, and so justify one crime by (if 
possible) a greater, — a chance of murdering or of 
being murdered ; and this is what every one who 
deviates from truth is sooner or later exposed to. 



292 LETTERS OF LORD CHESTERFIELD 

Besides all this there is a moral turpitude in a lie 
which no palliatives can excuse ; and a plain proof 
of the infamy of this practice is that no man, not 
even the worst man living, will own himself a liar, 
though many will own as great crimes. Some peo- 
ple excuse themselves to themselves by only adding 
to and embellishing truth in their narrations, but 
falsehood never can be innocent, for it can only be 
intended to mislead and deceive. But I am sure 
I have dwelt too long upon this subject to you, who 
I am persuaded have a just horror for a lie of any 
kind, or else I should have a horror for you. 

I have often recommended to you the good breed- 
ing and the manners of a gentleman, and to my 
great comfort, not without success, for you are in 
general civil and well bred ; the article in which you 
fail the most is at meals. You eat with too much 
avidity, and cram your mouth so full that if you 
were to speak you must sputter the contents of it 
amongst the dishes and the company. You some- 
times eat off of your knife, which is never to be 
done, and sometimes you play with your knife, fork, 
or spoon, too, like a boy. These are but little faults, 
I confess, but however are better corrected than 
persevered in. In the main it goes very well and I 
love you mightily. God bless you. 



TO HIS GODSON, 293 



XXVII. 



ON THE JE NE SAIS QUOI. 

Black-heath, Aiig. 9, 1768. 
My dear Boy, — I dare say you have heard and 
read of the je ne sais quoi^ both in French and 
EngHsh, for the expression is now adopted into our 
language ; but I question whether you have any 
clear idea of it, and indeed it is more easily felt 
than defined. It is a most inestimable quality, and 
adorns every other. I will endeavor to give you 
a general notion of it, though I cannot an exact 
one j experience must teach it you, and will if you 
attend to it. It is in my opinion a compound of 
all the agreeable qualities of body and mind, in 
which no one of them predominates in such a 
manner as to give exclusion to any other. It is not 
mere wit, mere beauty, mere learning, nor indeed 
mere any one thing that produces it, though they 
all contribute something towards it. It is owing to 
this je ne sais qtioi that one takes a liking to some 
one particular person at first rather than to another. 
One feels oneself prepossessed in favor of that 
person without being enough acquainted with him 
to judge of his intrinsic merit or talents, and one 
finds oneself inclined to suppose him to have good 
sense, good-nature, and good-humor. A genteel 

1 It would be difficult to find anything on such a subject 
where the touch is lighter, the turn of expression happier, and 
the distinctions more delicately drawn. — Earl of Carnar- 
von : Memoir of Chesterfield. 



294 LETTERS OF LORD CHESTERFIELD 

address, graceful motions, a pleasing elocution, and 
elegancy of style are powerful ingredients in this 
compound. It is in short an extract of all the 
" Graces." Here you will perhaps ask me to define 
the " Graces," which I can only do by the " je ne 
sais quoi," as I can only define the "je ne sais 
quoi " by the " Graces." No one person possesses 
them all, but happy he who possesses the most, and 
wretched he who possesses none of them. I can 
much more easily describe what their contraries 
are, — as for example a head sunk in between the 
shoulders, feet turned inwards instead of outwards, 
the manner of walking or rather waddling of a 
mackaw, so as to make Mrs. Dodd very justly call 
you her mackaw. All these sort of things are most 
notorious insults upon the Graces and indeed upon 
all good company. Do not take into your head 
that these things are trifles ; though they may seem 
so if singly and separately considered, yet when 
considered aggregately and relatively to the great 
and necessary art of pleasing, they are of infinite 
consequence. Socrates, the wisest and honestest 
pagan that ever lived, thought the Graces of such 
vast importance that he always advised his disciples 
to " sacrifice to them." From so great an authority 
I will most earnestly recommend to you to sacrifice 
to them. Invite, entreat, supplicate them to ac- 
company you, in all you say or do ; and sacrifice 
to them every little idle humor and laziness. They 
will then be propitious, and accept and reward your 
offerings. The principal object of my few remain- 
ing years is to make you perfect, if human nature 



TO HIS godson: 295 

could be so ; and it would make me happy if you 
would give me reason to say in time of you, what 
Lucretius says of Memmius : — 

** Quern tu Dea tempore in omni, 
Omnibus ornatum voluisti excellere rebus." 

Turn out your right foot, raise your head above 
your shoulders, walk like a gentleman ; if not I 
know not what Mrs. Dodd intends to do to you. 
God bless thee. 



XXVIII. 

THE INDECENT OSTENTATION OF VICES. 

Black-heath, Sept. 3, 1768. 
My DEAR Boy, — You are now near that age in 
which imitation is not only natural, but in some 
degree necessary. You are too young to be able 
to form yourself, and yet you are of an age when 
you should begin to be forming. Your greatest 
difficulty will be to choose good models to work 
from, and I am sorry to tell you that there are at 
least twenty very bad ones to one good one, espe- 
cially amongst the youth of the present times. Their 
manners are illiberal and even their vices are de- 
graded by their indecent ostentation of them. When 
you come more into the world, be very cautious 
what model you choose ; or rather choose no one 
singly, but pick and cull the accomplishments of 
many, as Apelles or Praxiteles, I have forgot which, 
did to form his celebrated Venus, — not from any 
one beauty, but by singling out and uniting the 



296 LETTERS OF LORD CHESTERFIELD 

best features of a great many. When you hear of 
any young man, of an universal good character, 
observe him attentively, and in great measure imi- 
tate him ; I say in a great measure, for no man 
living is so perfect as to deserve imitation in every 
particular. When you hear of another whose good 
breeding and address are generally applauded, form 
yourself upon his model in those particulars. Ill 
examples are sometimes useful to deter from the 
vices that characterize them. Horace tells us that 
his father trained him up to virtue by pointing 
out to him the turpitude of the vices of several 
individuals. 



XXIX. 

THE ART OF LETTER- WRITING. 

Black-heath, Sept. 15, 1768. 
My dear Boy, — I send you enclosed a letter 
from your friend young Mr. Chenevix, which you 
should answer in about a month. Politeness is as 
much concerned in answering letters within a reason- 
able time as it is in returning a bow immediately. 
A propos of letters, let us consider the various kinds 
of letters, and the general rules concerning them. 
Letters of business must be answered immediately, 
and are the easiest either to write or to answer, for 
the subject is ready and only requires great clear- 
ness and perspicuity in the treating. There must 
be no prettinesses, no quaintnesses, no antitheses, 
nor even wit. Non est his locus. The letters that 



TO HIS GODSON'. 297 

are the hardest to write are those that are upon no 
subject at all, and which are like small talk in 
conversation. They admit of wit if you have any, 
and of agreeable trifling or badinage. For as they 
are nothing in themselves, their whole merit turns 
upon their ornaments ; but they should seem easy 
and natural, and not smell of the lamp, as most of 
the letters I have seen printed do, and probably 
because they were wrote in the intention of print- 
ing them. Letters between real intimate friends 
are of course frequent, but then they require no 
care nor trouble, for there the heart leaves the un- 
derstanding little or nothing to do. Matter and 
expression present themselves. There are two other 
sorts of letters, but both pretty much of the same 
nature. These are letters to great men, your supe- 
riors, and lettres galantes — I do not mean love let- 
ters — to fine women. Put flattery enough in 
them both, and they will be sure to please. I can 
assure you that men, especially great men, are not in 
the least behindhand with women in their love of 
flattery. Whenever you write to persons greatly 
your inferiors, and by way of giving orders, let your 
letters speak what I hope in God you will always 
feel, — the utmost gentleness and humanity. If you 
happen to write to your valet de chambre or your 
bailiff, it is no great trouble to say *' Pray do such a 
thing ; " it will be taken kindly, and your orders will 
be the better executed for it. What good heart 
would roughly exert the power and superiority 
which chance more than merit has given him over 
many of his fellow creatures? I pray God to bless 



298 LETTERS OF LORD CHESTERFIELD 

you, but remember at the same time that probably 
he will only bless you in proportion to your deserts. 



XXX. 

TREATMENT OF SERVANTS. 

Black-heath, Aug. 29, 1769. 
My dear Boy, — It gave me great pleasure to 
observe the indignation which you expressed at the 
brutality of the Pacha you lately dined with to his 
servant, which I am sure you are and ever will be 
incapable of. Those Pachas seem to think that 
their servants and themselves are not made of the 
same clay, but that God has made by much the 
greatest part of mankind to be the oppressed and 
abused slaves of the superior ranks. Service is a 
mutual contract, — the master hires and pays his ser- 
vant, the servant is to do his master's business ; but 
each is equally at liberty to be off of the engage- 
ment upon due warning. Servants are full as neces- 
sary to their masters as their masters are to them, 
and so in truth is the whole human species to each 
other ; God has connected them by reciprocal wants 
and conveniences which must or at least ought to 
create that sentiment of universal benevolence or 
good -will which is called humanity. Consider were 
you the only living creature upon this globe what a 
wretched, miserable being you must be. Where 
would you get food or clothes? You are full as 
much obliged to the ploughman for your bread as 
the ploughman is to you for his wages. In this 



TO HIS GODSON. 299 

state then of mutual and universal dependence, 
what a monster of brutality and injustice must that 
man be who, though of the highest rank, can 
treat his fellow creatures even of the lowest with 
insult and cruelty as if they were of a different and ' 
inferior species. But this exhortation is not neces- 
sary to you, for I thank God he has given you a 
good and tender heart; but I would have your 
benevolence proceed equally from a sense of your 
duty both to God and man as from the compassion- 
ate sentiments and feelings of your heart. Say often 
to yourself, " Homo sum, nihil humani a me alienum 
puto." I will encroach no longer upon Dr. Dodd's 
province, who can and will explain the whole duty 
of man to you much better than I can ; so God bless 
you, my dear boy. 



XXXI. 

PRIDE OF RANK AND BIRTH, 

Black-heath, Sept. 12, 1769. 
My DEAR Boy, — After my death, Sir William's, 
and your father's, you will be in a situation that 
would make a fool proud and insolent, and a wise 
man more humble and obliging. I therefore easily 
judge of the effect which it will have upon you. 
You will have a pretty good estate, and a pretty 
ancient title. I allow you to be glad of both, but I 
charge you to be proud of neither of those merely 
fortuitous advantages, the attendants of your birth, 
not the rewards of any merit of yours. Your title 



300 LETTERS OF LORD CHESTERFIELD 

will enable you to serve your country, your estate 
to serve your friends, and to realize your present 
benevolence of heart into beneficence to your fellow 
creatures. The rabble — that is, at least three parts in 
four of mankind — admire riches and titles so much 
that they envy and consequently hate the possessors 
of them; but if (which too seldom happens) those 
riches are attended by an extensive beneficence, 
and the titles by an easy affability, the possessors 
will then be adored. Take your choice ; I am sure 
you will not hesitate. There is not in my mind a 
finer subject for ridicule than a man who is proud 
of his birth and jealous of his rank ; his civility is 
an insolent protection, his walk is stately and pro- 
cessional, and he calls his inferiors only " fellows." 
I remember a silly lord of this kind who one day, 
when the House was up, came to the door in Palace 
Yard, and finding none of his servants there, asked 
the people who stood at the door, " Where are my 
fellows ; " upon which one of them answered him, 
*' Your lordship has no fellow in the world." All 
silly men are not proud, but I aver that all proud 
men are silly without exception. Vanity is not 
always pride, but pride is always a foolish, ill-grounded 
vanity. Vanity that arises from a consciousness of 
virtue and knowledge is a very pardonable vanity, 
but then even that vanity should be prudently con- 
cealed. Upon the whole, the greater your rank, the 
greater your fortune may be, the more affability, 
complaisance, and beneficence will be expected 
from you, if you would not be hated or ridiculous. 
But I need not I am sure have treated this subject. 



TO HIS GODSON. 3OI 

for your own good sense and good heart would 
have suggested to you all I have said, and more. 
God bless you. 

XXXII. 

THE SNARES OF YOUTH. 

Tuesday, June ig, [1770].! 
My dear Boy, — From the time I took you under 
my care I loved you, because I thought that I saw 
in you a good and benevolent heart. I then wished 
that your parts might be as good ; and they have 
proved so ; they have not only answered my hopes 
but my most sanguine wishes ; I esteem, I admire 
you, and you are esteemed and admired by others 
in your now little sphere. But the more I love you 
now the more I dread the snares and dangers that 
await you, the next six or seven years of your life, 
from ill company and bad examples. Should you 
be corrupted by them what a fall would that be ! 
You would " fall, like setting stars, to rise no more." 
When you see young fellows, whatever may be their 
rank, swearing and cursing as senselessly as wickedly, 
. . . drunk, and engaged in scrapes and quarrels, 
shun them. Foenum habent in cornu, longe fuge. 
You can only get disgrace and misfortunes by fre- 
quenting them. Do not think that these exhorta- 

1 In his excellent edition of Chesterfield's Letters to his 
Godson, the Earl of Carnarvon says : — '* This letter, as far as 
I can decide, is the last of the letters ; and Tuesday, June 19, 
as determined by the chronological tables indicates the year 
1770. It is a fitting close to the series." 



302 LETTERS OF LORD CHESTERFIELh. ' 

tions are the formal preachings of a formal old 
fellow; on the contrary they are the best proofs I 
can give you of my tenderness. I would have you 
lead a youth of pleasures ; but then for your sake I 
would have them elegant pleasures becoming a man 
of sense and a gentleman ; they will never sully nor 
disgrace your character. Keep the best company, 
both of men and women, and make yourself an in- 
teresting figure in it. Have no mauvaise honte^ 
which always keeps a man out of good company 
and sinks him into low and bad company. I really 
believe that these exhortations and dehortations are 
unnecessary to your good sense ; but however, the 
danger is so great from the examples of the youth 
of the present times that I shall frequently return 
to the charge with my preventives. Mithridates 
(I think it was) had used himself so much to anti- 
dotes that he could not bring it about when he 
wished to poison himself. What would I not give 
for such an antidote to administer to you? 



THE END. 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 



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